


Fly Away

by thewildheroine



Series: The Bluebird [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 16 year old reader, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Daddy Issues, Enhanced Reader, F/M, Female Protagonist, Female Reader, Fluffy Moments, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kamar-Taj (Marvel), Magic Reader, Multi Chapter, My First Work in This Fandom, Oops, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker owns me, Powerful Reader, Protective Peter Parker, Reader-Insert, Sanctum Sanctorum (Marvel), Slow Burn, This story has taken over my life, Work In Progress, Writing this has hurt me in many ways, angsty, but fuck it, female oc is a bitch, long story, marvel angst is the best angst, the dark dimension, they are far and few between though, yet daddy????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-24 22:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 120,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewildheroine/pseuds/thewildheroine
Summary: Y/N has isolated herself the whole time she’s been alive; per her father’s rules and her obvious estrangement from society. For ten years of her life she has been told it would be best if she didn’t let anyone know the truth of her past, and even when Y/N’s father disappeared she managed to keep up that especially terrible tradition. That is until she decides to save a kid, sending out a call to every sorcerer within the parameters of her universe, and maybe even the next. That’s not to mention the bubbly spider hero she managed to bump into along the way. Now Y/N needs to keep herself and everyone she cares about safe all while she discovers the demons that reside in her very soul.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The very first chapter of the Fly Away story is the Prologue which basically just gives a little insight on the reader's past. Since I have twelve chapters already finished I'll probably be posting them to here daily until I'm caught up.

Most people are raised the same. They are taught to crawl. Just a small thing for when they’re just learning and only beginning to face small, reasonably stupid ordeals. Next, they walk, and if someone who cares about them is there to see it, then they’re most likely being cheered on the whole way through. Allowed and encouraged to fall even. In no time they’re running. Pounding their feet into the earth below as they pick up speed, and the risk of tripping and falling to the harsh is so much more likely. Yet they keep running, cause they love the way the wind feels whipping their hair around your face and the adrenaline pumping through you.

Even then they’re just getting used to life’s get problems, but as a child, just overcoming challenge after challenge, they don’t feel them so intensely as they will. And then those people start jumping. Maybe it’s only a little hop when they start, or maybe a few starts of bounding from place to place, but they’re beginning this next part of their life. That’s when things start hitting harder though. People begin tripping so much easier on things so much easier than before. Their leaps turn to falls when they don’t realize the stone that lays just in the way of their landing foot.

These people don’t stop though. They keep jumping and jumping, leaping and falling and tumbling, but they’re getting up. Soon enough their knees stop hitting the ground though and just like before the punches that keep coming at them become softer and not because they’re easier, but because they’ve learned. Then people combine the running and the bounding together so that they can dance with elegance and grace that would seem unfathomable to the younger person they were that was tripping with every brave jump. If they keep learning, they may even end of flying.

That was not the way my life was. I had a moment to learn how to crawl, a second to walk, and a minute to begin running, all without falling before my father forced me to jump and then to fly.

I was introduced to magic at the measly age of one. My father taught me through silent lessons, teaching me the specific hand motions. His only reward to me, if I did good, was that he wouldn’t escape to his room and leave me alone in our dungeon of a home. 

I like to think that had my mother still been with us she would’ve taken care of me when I was alone. Her appearance and even her voice was a void to me though and I was left to cry every night that I managed to screw up his “easy” lessons. 

I had no mom. I don’t even really think I should still give him the title of dad, but he was all I had. It quickly became my instinct to please him as I got a sense of what I was doing so that I wouldn’t have to be lonely on the tattered couch.

The days that he would be forced to leave to get us food I spent practicing enchantments over and over in my head until I knew them so well that the moment I needed them I could easily conjure up my magic. I read books throughout the night. Asgardian mainly and some from the sorcerer temples on Earth, of which my father never told me how he got them. I advanced as quickly as possible in order to make him happy. By the time I nearly knew more than him.

He pushed me harder than ever those last weeks before my birthday, being surprisingly nurturing even when I messed spells up. Every day he would keep me out of school unlike the rest of the year when he would force me to juggle all my responsibilities. I loved it. I loved his kind face that remained even when I forgot the movement. I loved when he’d lovingly look at me when my spells were perfect and my face was bright.

Then I woke up the next day, on my tenth birthday, to an empty house.

He left without so much as leaving a note. My father forced me to fly and left me up in the sky. I didn’t search for him though. I didn’t cry. All I did was get ready and go to school. Every single day for six years. Only focusing on school and magic and not the hole he left in me. Conjuring up fake parents for every stupid conference and high school enrollment day. Not once focusing on how I did everything; every task, every challenge, and how I took every punch life threw at me without even a grimace on his face, and my dad left.


	2. Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N has to save the day when a certain web-slinging superhero isn't able to show up on time...

Quiet. Out of all the things I’ve come to love, quiet is by far the best. It’s understandable seeing that I lived most of my life in it.

I take a sip from the warm coffee mug in front of me and place it down, perfectly centered on the wooden coaster. The cafe is covered in tiny fairy lights that make this whole place a warm gold to contrast the lonely and dark streets outside. The sun hasn’t even risen yet to meet my already wide awake face for the first time today.

Out of curiosity, I look down at the cheap watch on my wrist that reads 7:15 a.m. I sigh and look back out the window. The sun should be peaking out of the building covered horizon any minute now, then I’ll be forced to begin my way to work.

In the meantime, I enjoy the peace this coffee shop provides to me. Most days I come here, seeing that it’s close enough to my dreary house to walk. When I’ve already begun on my way to the bus station using my bike I’ll instead drop by one of the ten Starbucks on my way. This place is my favorite out of all of them though. By luck it just happens to face towards where the sun rises every morning, giving me a perfect view as rays of light spill over the apartments and business buildings. 

“Miss, can you stop?” a whiny voice behind me says. I sigh and roll my head so that I can stare at the waitress that stands behind the counter. She holds her phone weakly in her hands as she glares at my face. The lock screen shows that it’s on a call, and from the multitude of hearts by the caller’s name I can tell it isn’t business related.

I spare a glance at my fingers that subconsciously began tapping on the ceramic mug. Momentarily I lift them up into the air, while still keeping eye contact, and limply let my hand drop to the table before beginning to tap them just as obnoxiously as before. I watch the waitress as she groans, stomps to the opposite side of the store, and continues her call.

As though the incident never even happened, I resume what I was doing before and wait for the sun to rise. Before I can begin enjoying it through my phone dings. I grumble and pick it up. An email from work glows on my phone, asking if someone can take their ten-hour shift this Friday. Hurriedly, I log onto my phone and begin typing out a reply.

Suddenly the waitress screams behind me, nearly making me drop my phone into my coffee. Catching it with a small enchantment I save myself the pain of having to pay for a new one. I stare down at my tapping fingers and shake my head.

“It really isn’t that annoying,” I murmur to myself as I look back to see if she’s coming towards me. Instead, I catch a quick glimpse of her running into the employee break room and disappearing.  
I furrow my brows and look out of the window, barely throwing myself from my seat before a bright purple beam of light blows a hole right through the cafe. My body skids across the floor as glass shards fall down. Even when I stop sliding my hands stay over my eyes to make sure no debris fall onto my face.

I reluctantly peak through my fingers as the damage. A hole the size of the double doors that used to be attached to the coffee shop has drilled right through the building and into the next. All the noise around me is faint as I push myself up only a little as to not be noticed. 

Outside people shriek in horror as a group tears the entire street apart. I instinctively shield my face as an explosion goes off to my right. When I look up again I search for one specific thing, or rather one specific someone.

Shouldn’t Spider-Man be swinging in by now, webbing up the perps? I stare at the sky desperately as more people begin screaming out. Shouldn’t the explosions be enough of a call for help by now?  
I moan and stand up. My magic pulsing between my fingers like a beating heart. Glass cracks beneath my flats as I step through the shattered window. No one from the group of mask-wearing idiots seems to have noticed me yet, but I still take reluctant steps forward. Only when I watch as a kid is cornered do I really want to actually fight them.

“Screw it,” I tell myself and run towards them. The gold colored whip forms in my hand on command. I crack it forward, praying that, after years without actually doing anything with conjuring weapons, it will hit its target. Confidence pumps through me as it wraps itself around one of their guns before I yank it back and out of the person’s hand. 

Even as they all turn towards me I keep sprinting putting up a bright shield and sliding beneath the cruel shower of bullets. The moment I’m behind them I get back up and grab the kid. He clings to my neck. I do my best to get us away from the attackers until a bomb hits the back of my shield and blows us forward. With a groan, I slow us down enough before we fall that he gets hurt.  
When I look away from the perps coming straight towards us I see the kid staring at me with wide eyes. I cock my eyebrow at him.

“What,” I ask in an annoyed voice. He looks at the golden shield surrounding us and our levitating bodies.

“Are you a wizard?” I roll my eyes and look back towards the shooters. On some of their shoulders are what I would assume are sacks of cash. Of course, it’s money. What else would it be in Queens?

“Is that really your top priority right now?” He shrugs as I glare up at him through narrowed eyes. “Go!” I shout as I stand him upright and drop the enchantment keeping us up. Once he’s hidden far away I look back towards the masked group.

I suck in a sharp breath when I realize that I’m left to handle them all on my own. Subtly, I look up to see if Spider-Man may finally be swooping in, but all that is up there are a few fluffy clouds and the blue sky. Of course.

I look at them again and gulp, trying to think of any way to save yourself.

“I know you guys are probably thinking of shooting me, but-” Before I can finish a bullet is suddenly flying towards my face. Numbly, I put up a hand and it stops on command. It begins to come to me at a slower rate when I flick my fingers. The bullet stops once it comes into contact with my palm. I tsk to them sarcastically.

“And here I thought we could be civil.” The moment it leaves my lips I fire the metal thing away from you, letting the bullet lodge itself into one of the thief’s thigh. They can’t even react as two rounded, golden blades form around my wrist and I fly towards them. I effortlessly hit each one of them, twisting and sliding just out of their reach and slicing their legs quickly, doing my best to knock each of them unconscious until they’re all lying on the ground.

“Woah,” a voice whispers behind me. I twist around quickly to see where it comes from. Standing in front of me is Spider-Man who, instead of focusing on the criminals on the ground, watches the glowing blades in my hands. I shake them away nervously and look at him. He slowly looks up to my eyes, his own attached to the suit suddenly widening.

“Y/N?” he mumbles in a confused voice. How would he know my name? I knit my eyebrows together worriedly, and look behind me, past the thieves and to where I can make my escape. Deciding on what to do I vanish from his sight and appear a couple hundred feet away and begin sprinting as hard and fast as I can. My head and legs feel numb though from the energy transfer and it’s no surprise when his web suddenly catches my wrist.

My body is twirled around until I’m face to face with Spider-Man, whose hand has replaced the webbing on my wrist. His mechanical eyes are still wide as he looks at my face. For a second my feet are rooted to the ground.

“Can you do magic?” he asks me. Through the mask, I can hear the same childish wonder the kid had shown earlier. 

I swallow hard and think of another way to escape. My eyes linger on the alleyway that opens up and should lead to my house. I’d have to ride my bike to the furthest station if I want to make it to work on time, but that shouldn’t be too hard as long as I don’t do the matter transfer to somewhere too far away.

“Y/N,” Spider-Man says my name again, only this time it’s more of a statement and I turn my face back towards him. I study him a little longer, thinking long and hard about how familiar that voice is. My eyes flash down to my wrist that is still in his grasp. As to not alarm him I pull myself free slowly. Spider-Man, being so enamored with me doesn’t realize that I’m beginning to back away slowly. His eyes stay glued to mine, and I have to glance through my hair to see how close I am to the alley.

Just a few more steps and I’ll be able to vanish and still have enough energy to function for the rest of my day. I focus on him one more second before disappearing from his sight again. This time though I’m hidden behind the corner of the alley leading to my house. Reluctantly, I look around the corner to see how he’s reacted. The hero looks around wildly to see where I’ve reappeared, but he can’t find me.

I watch curiously as he runs a hand across the top of his mask, almost as though he’s pushing his hair back. It takes everything in me to pull my gaze away from him and begin moving down the alley.   
Once I’m to the safety of my deteriorating house I weakly tug a strand of hair behind my ear. Just like before I eye where Spider-Man would still be, webbing up the criminals so that the cops can take them in. My eyes soften a little thinking about his voice. I know that voice. I’ve heard that stupid voice somewhere. Then my mind gets hitched on something from before. Just like how it did on that now-ruined street.

“How did you know my name?” I whisper to the quiet air, thinking maybe he’ll hear it somehow.


	3. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Monday after Y/N's incident, she finds out hundreds of videos of the fight are spreading across the web and one boy, in particular, has taken interest in her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I still can't write a good summary to save my life.

My head tiredly leans into my hand. It takes so much energy to even keep my eyes open to understand what our Algebra two teacher is even teaching us. Not that I even care at this point in terms of this class or in general. I’ll just look up online videos online. The rest of me, however, is seemingly in shambles. 

This morning I was forced to put on a stained sweatshirt and loose jeans that all dirty clothes get when they lie around for too long. I had just sprayed the whole outfit with the most pungent perfume in my room. Not even waking up on time to catch the bus I was forced to ride my bike most of the way which let the rain that I hadn’t even noticed until stepping outside drench me.

I can say pretty confidently that our main janitor hates me now after I walked into school dripping wet. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was out to get me now. Especially after I slipped and fell into one of the repainted walls, leaving a weird wet splatter.

“Y/N,” someone next to me whispers for my attention. I barely turn my head enough to see all of Peter’s face.

“Hmm,” I hum with an annoyed.

“Are you okay,” he asks me with a nervous and unfamiliar worried smile. I cock an eyebrow at him. My head begins to nod unsurely and I glance back up to the board when I hear Mr. Tiller cough loudly. I wait to see if he’s pointedly glaring me and Parker down before returning my attention back to the shy boy.

“Really,” Peter laughs and lifts his pencil a little to point at my still wet sweatshirt, “because you’re soaked and look like you haven’t slept in forever.” I stare numbly down at my clothing before shrugging.

“I had a really tiring day yesterday, so I woke up really late and had to ride my bike in the rain.” I turn myself all the way back to the lessons. “No biggie.” Next, to me, Peter shuffles and twists in his chair the most awkward and distracting way possible. I sigh and turn my head towards him again since he’s obviously still seeking a conversation with me.

“Oh- uh- did you hear about that huge fight yesterday?” he asks while pushing back his hair. My eyes immediately narrow at him as I try and figure out what he’s talking about. It makes sense that it would be in the news, but why is he bringing it up to me. Ned is right by him. Usually, they’re the ones who talk about the crazy things that happen in New York. Maybe MJ, but other than that he doesn’t go up to anyone else.

I look past him and glare at Ned, who seems to have been watching me for god knows how long. Suddenly. Peter plops his elbow down on his desk, leaning on it an ruining my view of his friend.

“Pretty- pretty wild huh?” Peter manages to even make me feel awkward from what he says, and it isn’t because of the topic. “I guess someone got a video of what went down and there’s this super cool girl who like save a kid and…,” his voice drops off for a second as his eyes concentrate on me completely. “Stopped the guys since Spider-Man wasn’t there yet.” Peter quickly shakes himself from whatever trance he was in and finishes his sentence.

“Yeah…” I murmur. “Wild.” The bell abruptly rings overhead dismissing the class. As quickly as possible I grab my notebook, throw on my backpack, and rush outside of the classroom.

Someone got the fight on video? Does it show my face? 

Hastily I yank my phone out of my sweatshirts front pocket and begin typing something into the search engine. Immediately, the video of me pops up over everything else. My body moves into the lockers so that people go around me. I tap on the play button and watch the fight like I’m seeing it for the first time. It really feels like this is my first time. 

The girl in the video moves around and flies off the ground like a graceful dancer. When she throws out the golden blades in her hands and controls them to fly towards each of the criminals it’s captivating. I gasp at the sight of her hovering like an angel in the air, controlling her magic perfectly. The only thing that isn’t in the video is a clear image of her face.

I don’t even remember this. Doing this. Of course, I know that I had the fight and the basics of what I did, but I had no idea I did them so well.

“She’s pretty cool, don’t you think?” My head twists around wildly and I find myself nose to nose with Peter. A shocked expression spreads across his from the closeness of our bodies. Even feeling uncomfortable in the situation myself I back away a little bit.

“Yeah,” I mumble.

“Everyone’s trying to figure out who she is. There have even been rumors that the Avengers are trying to find her identity.” I have to look away from him and down at my water filled boots to hide the sudden fear in my eyes. “Her powers are amazing.” When I look up at him Peter’s eyes show an intensity I’ve never seen anyone ever look at me with. His dark brown eyes are soft though.

“Do you-,” he stops as if he’s thinking if he’ll be wording this next phrase right. “Do you believe in magic Y/N.” My heart stalls for a second in my chest. The only time any person ever asked me that question was on the playground when I was young and my friends and I were playing stupid games with moms and dads and annoying teenage sisters that pretended to have a giant wad of gum in their mouth.

That was fun though. Just them purely being curious and not motivated to ask because of videos of sorcerers. I hope that for a second Peter may admit to joking and just drop the topic. He’s not though. His eyes are glued to mine and he wants to hear my answer. An honest answer.

I swallow and look at the clock telling me we still have three minutes of passing period. My father would tell me to keep it vague. To not let Peter know the truth about my magic and just say that maybe it is.

The thing is the world is changing though. I saw the sanctions falling on the news and felt the change when the Sorcerer Supreme passed away. Then Strange began fighting with the Avengers. People with enough sense should know by now that there is magic in this universe just as there is magic in others.

“Well, of course, I believe in magic. Haven’t you seen the stuff that Doctor Strange does?” For a moment Peter smiles at me, but then it turns to a frown when I finish my thought. “Why are you asking me this stuff anyway? Aren’t you and Ned supposed to be best buds or something?” I begin walking down the hall again before I risk being late to another class. Peter automatically starts following.

“Yeah, but I don’t really talk to you much,” he replies, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“That’s exactly my point Peter,” I clutch my books to my chest. “You don’t socialize with me at all. The only time we ever talk at all is when we’re paired up for projects, and even then we are barely talking to each other. I’m pretty sure you even rush to finish early so we don’t have to spend any time together after school.” The hallways have cleared up except for the few students who are jogging to their classes on the other side of the school. Peter grimaces a little.

“I have stuff I’m always doing after schools, that’s why,” he explains. I roll my eyes and step in front of our class’s door.

“Like what?” I retort. Peter lifts his hands defensively and moves closer.

“Like the Stark internship,” he answers after making an incomprehensible noise. I scoff and open the door. We both walk into chemistry together, ignoring how our peers stare at us. My body loosens a little when I see that our teacher hasn’t come in yet.

“I thought you lost the internship,” I scoff. I remember that day vividly. For the first time in weeks, he had actually been focused on school, but that didn’t change the fact that I could tell that he was devastated. He dedicated a ton of time to Stark.

“I- I got it back,” Peter stutters. “I just thought- you know- maybe we should spend more time together since we both have the same classes.” I twist my body around so that I can stare him down. That’s not the only reason he wants to hang out with me. I know it, but a part of me tells me just to go along with him.

Defeated I sigh and rub my eyes. “Fine Peter,” I say begrudgingly. A wide smile spreads across his lips as Peter pulls his hands out of the pockets they were once hidden in. The whole class looks over at us as he claps them together excitedly. With a laugh, I roll my eyes.

“Peter, Y/N, can you please take your seats,” our teach asserts to us as she enters. I look back at Peter’s smiling face.

“Wanna hang out after school?” he wonders.

“I thought this was only going to be a during school thing?” I question curiously. Peter shrugs off his bag and throws it next to his stool.

“I only ever said I wanted to get to know you. I never said how.” Before I even get the chance to turn down the offer or even ask how I’m going to know where to go he walks away from me and goes to his seat.

“Y/N,” the teacher shouts at me. I mutter a quiet apology and take a seat. Even though I somehow have regained my energy I can’t focus on the lesson. My eyes are still caught on Peter. Luckily he hasn’t noticed my confused staring.

I groan to myself and drop my head. My soft hair drops in front of my face, caging my eyes and keeping me from studying him anymore. The only time I look through the strands is when someone quickly places something on my desk.

I little rectangle sits patiently by my calloused fingers. Hesitantly, I pick it up by the corner and inspect it. On the front is a phone number with Peter’s name messily written in the corner. I glance back really quickly and catch him staring at me as he grabs a tissue from the box before tossing it in the trash without using it. My hand goes up to my mouth to cover up the grin as I pocket the paper.


	4. Part Three

I stand in front of the mirror in my dusty bathroom. My fingers work to brush on the face powder I had originally ignored this morning and my eyes constantly dropped to my phone.

For thirty minutes I had debated on even texting him. Peter gave me his number but I never gave him mine, meaning that I didn’t even have to contact him. I switched from pacing, to sitting upside down, and then to aimlessly standing in front of the fridge for the whole time. Then I texted something simple to him. Just, “hey,” and then telling him my name before I threw it on the couch. I nearly slipped when I heard my phone ring.

After texting for a couple of minutes Peter and I decided to meet at Queensbridge Park to hang out. It seems simple to me. I’m pretty sure it costs nothing. At least that’s what I got from our conversation. I’ve never actually been there. I do however remember glimpses of the entrance when I head to school.

I take a breathe and study myself closely on more time in the mirror. Suddenly a wave of frustration washes over me. Why do I care so much? Peter just wants to hang out. It’s nothing to fret about, so why am I wearing my nicest cardigan and my favorite, and not to mention cleanest shoes from an actual store. Both of these items I bought on a major splurge.

My fingers quickly push themselves past my hairline and muss my hair. I glare when it still manages to look just fine. Instead of trying harder to make myself look at least a little worse though I stomp out of the bathroom, grabbing my phone, wallet, and keys on the way. My fingers approach the doorknob, but before I can reach it I see a glint of light in the corner of my eye.

Everything becomes numb as I begin to turn towards the source. My back falls into the wall when I see the door. Still locked and bolted after four years is the door to my father’s room. An eerie green glow creeps into my living room, growing brighter and brighter until I’m forced to push myself all the way against the wooden frame. A low buzzing sounds inside of his room and it shakes me to my core.

Behind me, my fingers fumble around for the metal knob. Finally my hand lands on it. I nearly break it from twisting too hard. As it swings open I fall back first out of my apartment, landing hard. The wind is knocked out of my lungs and I have to grip onto the floor as though it is the only thing anchoring me to this world. With a quick flick of my wrist, the door slams shut, probably upsetting my neighbors. The moment it closes the ominous buzzing stops, and I’m left alone in the hallway.

My hands push at the floorboards beneath so that I can shove myself into the wall and watch as the light continues towards me in an insidious way. I bite the inside of my mouth and shut my eyes, praying it will go away.

“What the hell are you doin’.” I open my eyes and look up at my neighbor Taryn, who looks like she just rolled out of bed with her robe and a sheet mask still on. She keeps poking at the slick black material to keep it from sliding off. I let my mouth open as I begin apologizing while looking at the crack beneath my door. It’s gone.

“Stupid teens and their fucking drugs,” Taryn mumbles before stepping back into her apartment. I watch her leave and look back at my door. Somehow I find myself not even perturbed by her comment. In fact, I barely registered what she said.

Right now I’m registering what I’m doing and which every aching scream in my head I can’t stop what I’m doing. my face inches closer and closer to the dusty floor. Once my cheeks lands on the cold surface below I look in and at the door. The green light is still surrounding it ominously, but I don’t watch that anymore. My eyes stay on the lock. Waiting to see what it does.

My heart stops when it shakes a little, and when it drops from my father’s door I jump to my feet and begin sprinting down the hallway. I jump down whole flights of stairs to escape the clutches of this place. People watch with angry expressions as I push past them and burst out of the apartment complex. In seconds I’ve gotten my bike and I’m riding unbelievably fast.

I’m panting hard by the time I reach the park. I don’t stop though. My feet keep pedaling through the soft grass until my tire hits a rock, throwing me off of my bike.

I groan on the ground and look up at the sky. Grey clouds collect above, warding off any of the people who were here, and leaving me completely alone on the ground

“Y/N!” I hear Peter’s voice shouts for me. Before I know it he’s kneeling over me, obviously worried about my current situation.

“Y/N what happened? Are you okay?” he asks persistently. “I saw you fall off your bike. If you need to go home I can take you.” I sit up and place a hand to my chest. Through my shirt, I can feel my racing heart still jumping around my body. Images of my father’s bedroom door flash in my head, reminding me of what happened.

I locked that door for a reason, and that reason is not my father. It’s the magic inside. Untamable and dangerous. He didn’t even create it, I did, and it is not something I ever want to face again.

“No. It’s okay Peter. I’m fine,” I try to persuade him. Peter furrows his brows unsurely. After looking up at his expression for a little too long I sigh and look into the sky and try to balance myself. I haven’t felt this afraid in years. Not since I did that spell and made that room a curse.

Peter places a reassuring hand on my knee despite his confusion, and simultaneously I hear the sound of shattering glass. He must hear it too because we both stand up at the same time and look at each other curiously.

“Did you hear that?” he asks. My head nods in a slow, and almost erratic manner. I peek beyond Peter and watch the grass and trees. My eyes widen fearfully as I the whole ground breaks apart. There is no crack though. It just distorts until the space between has turned into sky.

A gasp leaves my mouth before I can control it. Peter whispers my name, but I ignore him and step forward and past his stiff body. In front of me is my reflection, breaking and bending in the same way the Earth is.

“Y/N,” Peter whispers. “What is this?” I turn around to see what he’s talking about. Giant cubes and pyramids of buildings and trees and streets float in the infinite sky filled with billions of clouds and suns.

“No,” my voice cracks. I remember so clearly my father forcing me into this dimension to fight and bend the false universe to my will. Now I’m back without so much as a sling ring to get myself out. There’s one thing that makes this situation worse.

Peter.

He looks to me for answers, a content expression even, but my lungs have run out of air, leaving my mouth dry and quiet. Peter calls out my name. Shakes my shoulders. Anything to regain my attention. I can’t focus on that right now though. All I can think about is how I am not the one who brought is here.

Suddenly there is a shift on the ground in which we stand. I turn around wildly, memories of my father’s rigorous training sessions pumping through my head instead of adrenaline.

I watch, horrified, as a giant, glowing mass begins forming above where we stand, the silhouette of the creator no higher than its middle. The writhing ball is covered in metallic tentacles that protect its glowing center. This is bigger than any of the bombs my father would make.

“Run,” I declare in a shaking voice. Peter just stares at me as I grab his hand.

“Y/N there’s no ground in front of us.” Just as the pulsing orb begins to drop from the sky I grab onto Peter’s hand and turn toward the warped horizon.

“Then jump,” I growl. Deciding to trust me Peter and I both break into a fast sprint. My heart pounds even harder than before, crashing against the brittle walls of the rib cage. Every last nerve in my body is telling my brain to turn around and face the soon to be explosion. I keep going though, holding my breath as I leap into the aether.


	5. Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'm going to do any more chapter summaries since I suck at them in general. I'm hopefully going to be posting all of the parts of Fly Away on here tonight.

My eyes are shut tight and my heart beats so fast that it’s almost dizzying. Above us I hear the deafening boom of the bomb, sending out thousands of pieces of debris that chase Peter and I. His grip on my hand has tightened as he shouts for me. I can’t focus on him right now though. Both of our lives depend on me using my energy wisely.

I feel my hands warm up with sparks of golden magic and I open my eyes. All around us the hundreds of cubes full of cars and buildings and millions if not billions of living, breathing things. Well, not exactly living.

“Y/N!” Peter screams at me. I’m barely able to hear it above the chaos occurring all around us. I twist my head to look up worriedly, and sure enough, there is the silhouette still hunting us.

“Just not my fucking day,” I grumble to myself before tugging on Peter’s arm and pulling him closer to me. “Don’t let go,” I assert and begin directing us towards the nearest spot in which we can land. Heading my command one of the cubes splits right down the middle, peeling and twisting as it prepares to catch us.

I speed up when I hear another bomb going off not far behind us. We’re abruptly thrusted forward and land on the building a lot quicker than I expected. For a moment the glass cushions us before hardening and letting us slide down.

“Y/N! The ground! The ground!” Peter screams. I groan and twist my hand. The moment I do it the ground opens up, allowing us to slip right through. Even though we’re in a better situation now my hands keep working to ensure that we survive. The whole cube turns enough that we can stand and begin jogging instead of helplessly sliding to yet another building on the other side and for every step we take there are ten more behind us.

We burst out of the hole that I created and by moving my fingers in yet another twirling motion it twists shut behind us. Peter and I stare out at the entirety of this place, being neither frightened or disturbed but simply amazed.

“Where are we?” Peter asks me.

“The mirror dimension,” I tell him quietly and let go of his hand that I was still clinging to. “It’s just like ours only sorcerers, which you probably figure out I am, can manipulate easily.” Peter nods and studies this distorted place a little longer.

“So how do we get out of here?” he wonders to me. Now I grimace again and run a hand through my hair. I’ve only ever been stuck in the mirror dimension once, and that was only for a few minutes until I was able to find my sling ring and leave. Now I’m stuck here without a sling and a man hunting us for god knows what reason.

Then a thought hits me. That guy has to have one. No one just goes into the mirror dimension unless they have a way to get out, and if Peter and I can manage to take it from him we can get back to our Earth.

“I need you to help me take his sling ring,” I grab Peter’s shoulders happily. His eyebrows furrow at me curiously as my mind tries to come up with some sort of plan.

“A… sling ring?” he pronounces the word like it has a weird, disgusting taste in his mouth. I ignore it and nod erratically, pacing once I let go of him.

“Without it we can’t get out of this dimension, and since mine is at my apartment we need his.” When Peter doesn’t respond I bite the inside of my cheek nervously. “I know this must all seem crazy to you, but I promise that when we get back I will tell you everything you need-” before I can finish my promise my legs are suddenly yanked out from under me. I yelp as my face hits the glass, making blood spout from my nose while I’m beginning to be dragged away.

My body twists around wildly to see what is going on. Around my feet is a golden, sparkling whip that connects me to the hunter. The moment I see the red design engraved into his forehead my mind immediately goes into panic mode. I begin clumsily clawing at the whip in the hopes of finding a way to detach it from me. All it does though is get tighter.

Giving up on that plan I twist back around and begin clawing at the glass, making little ridges in the material to use as leverage, but each time I do it the hunter simply reverses it. 

My only other option now is to call for Peter. I shake the thought from my head the same second I think of it. There’s no way I’m pitting him against that sorcerer. I couldn’t even imagine fighting him myself.

I’m ready to face my fate when I feel something grab my hand. I look up quickly. Wrapped around my fingers is a white web. I follow it down the entirety of the building to Peter who is pulling back on it until I’m in the middle of a tug of war.

Easily annoyed by my body being yanked back and forth I slam my hand into the glass while the hunter is distracted, causing a ripple to roll towards him. The second the whip fades away I stand and begin sprinting to Peter. He waits patiently until I’m next to him to begin running as well. I grab onto his hand like before and guide him through the maze that I begin creating. Pieces of buildings and streets fly in under our feet as we do our best to escape the hunter.

Once I fully understand what just happened I glare at Peter angrily. “You’re Spider-Man?” I growl at him. We both turn simultaneously before jumping from a sheet of metal to another building. Peter barely turns towards me before shrugging mid-sprint.

“And you’re the magic girl who caught the thieves for me,” he retorts. I roll my eyes and slide under an obstacle with him.

“At least I didn’t hide it when it would’ve actually been helpful,” I spit back.

“Hey,” Peter says, offended, “I saved you from that weird magic guy.” I nod sarcastically to myself and hop on top of the next set of a building that slides in a little too high from my lack of focus.

“Okay sure, but I can think of five different scenarios where you could’ve helped me out a little bit.” Peter ignores me and pulls a little harder on my hand when we turn another corner. “Hey!” I shout at him when I nearly trip. A subtle smirk appears on his face and I have to tell myself not to shove him.

When we’re not paying attention the ground below us opens all of the sudden and we fall through. Both Peter and I plummet to the ground for only a few seconds before landing on the ground hard. I groan and push myself onto my elbows. Peter follows me as I stand up and twist around.

“Aw shit,” I sigh when I see the sorcerer. The mark of the Dark Dimension on his head glows red. He pulls a rod-shaped item from his belt and jerks it, making an iridescent blade slide out. I stare in awe at the relic he holds proudly. Soon enough though my amazement turns to fear. I face Peter who seems just as afraid as I am.

“You need to go,” I tell him quietly. Peter knits his brows together.

“Y/N-”

“I don’t mean run away. You’d just get yourself killed without me,” I assert. “Go over there and try to take his sling ring. It’s attached to his belt. Also, don’t let me die.” Peter goes tight-lipped and moves away from me and towards the edges of the arena that hunter has made. His expression shows his reluctance about leaving me to fight whoever this is alone

I turn my head back towards the man and tap my fingers to my palm. A single large mirror slides in, acting as a wall behind me. It duplicates to surround us completely and once it’s done I bring up my hands defensively and make two rounded blades appear.

The hunter and I charge towards each other. Him with his sword driving itself towards me and me bringing one of my weapons up and replacing it with a shield. Sparks fly away from us as we collide. Compared to the hunter and his build I’m puny. He even hunches over me.

Keeping up my round shield I slide under him and use my blade to slice his side. He turns, seething with rage and swings his blade at me wildly. I have to jump back to keep it from hitting my stomach. My hands connect with the mirror behind me and I duck when the sword crashes above me. It shatters completely and I don’t bother making a new one in its place.

My eyes search for Peter. I know I can’t keep this up. For the first time since sparring with my father, I have to pump the magic in my surroundings into my body. He’s stronger than me not magically but physically. It makes sense since I’ve never bothered working out after my father disappeared.

Suddenly the hunter’s sword slams against my shield and I’m forced to the ground. His blade retracts, and he moves around my swinging arms to wrap his arm around my neck. I choke and let my weapons fade away. My fingers claw desperately at his forearm. In response, he tightens his grip on my throat and my breathing completely stops. I gag and look around for Peter again.

When I see him again he’s standing where the mirror broke. His eyes are focused on where the hunter’s sling ring is as he lifts his arms and aims his web-shooter.

“How disappointing,” the hunter whispers to me as I nod at Peter. “We all expected so much more from you.”

“Sorry,” I reply with a crack in my voice as I drive an elbow into his groin. “Oops,” I say with a serious tone. My fingernails needlessly dig into his skin as I tear his arms off of me. I fall to the ground a little as I catch my breath, holding my neck as though it will help the air into my lungs faster.

“Yoink,” Peter laughs as his webbing connects with the ring and pulls it away. He catches the sling ring in his hand and holds it out to me as I stand weakly and run towards him. Mindlessly I slip it on and glance back at the hunter who is beginning to recover. I wrap my arm around Peter’s and turn towards the sky.

“We’re jumping again,” I tell him, realizing we won’t have time to leave from here if we don’t want the sorcerer to follow us through. Before Peter can disagree I pull us over the edge of the arena. Just like earlier we’re free falling as I raise my hand and begin moving it in circles while the one with the ring is limply raised to make sure Peter and I stay connected. The circle of gold begins to form just in time to let us plummet through.


	6. Part Five

Both Peter and I lay side by side on the wet grass. Rain begins to drop from the storm clouds above and thunder claps angrily but neither of us bothers moving. Slowly I remove my arm from his. The sling ring feels unusually heavy on my fingers as I pull it off and push it into my cardigan pocket.

“That sucked,” Peter announces to me. The full reality seems to be finally settling on him. Even while we were in there I was surprised to see how well he was handling the situation. Peter even seemed amazed. Now that we’re free of the mirror dimension though he seems numbed.

“Yup,” I reply. “Magic usually does.” Finally deciding that I’m not enjoying how the soggy ground feels I sit up and sigh. My throat still feels sore from being choked. I grimace at the memory and add it to the list of things to forget as soon as possible. Nothing good ever happens in that dimension.

“Do you need to go home?” he wonders. I turn towards Peter before looking down. The door. I haven’t thought about it in since we got stuck in the other dimension, but now that I am my insides ache and I grab onto the grass below me, tearing out a whole handful.

When I look up Peter is suddenly closer than before. I feel his warms breathes fan against my face, making my heart flip. My teeth bite into the soft insides of my mouth, forcing me to pull myself away from his worried, dark brown eyes. To keep from looking at him I close my eyes and push back my hair.

“Could I- if it’s okay with you- could I maybe spend some time at your place. Just a little bit.” My eyes glance at him nervously through a few pieces of wet hair. A smile forms on his lips.

“Of course Y/N,” Peter says and I have to ignore the little pink blush on his cheeks. “My apartment is actually pretty close to here.” I nod and stand up with him. Without speaking I walk next to him as he leads us to his home. My fingers fidget awkwardly, not once stopping even as Peter opens the door to his apartment.

I step in and look around. Old pictures of Peter are hung up on the wall. A grin appears on my face as I step up to one and look at it. In it is a young Peter with who I presume to be Aunt May and Uncle Ben. The little bit of joy I felt from seeing his pictures suddenly disappear and all that is left is a sense of sadness.

Everyone remembers when Ben died Freshmen year. It was all over the news for a week, and while people were kind to him I heard all the hushed whispers people would use when they figure Peter wasn’t listening. That was the only time Peter and I ever talked. Actually talked. The conversation wasn’t about school or the weather or even just awkward rambling. It was just me bringing up random things to distract him and asking whether or not he’s seen a movie or read this one book I thought he would really like. I sure as hell didn’t ask if he was doing okay like everyone did because I know I didn’t want anyone asking if I was okay when my dad left.

“May!” Peter suddenly shouts, shocking me back to the moment. I look down the hall where Aunt May stands. Her eyes meet my own in an instant and I feel like I’m being crushed by the intensity of her surprise.

“May this is my friend Y/N,” he reaches for my arm gently and pulls me away from the pictures. “Y/N this is Aunt May.” I look from his aunt, to Peter, and back again. My fingers nervously push back a strand of hair and I step towards her.

“Uh,” I mumble and extend a stiff hand towards her. “It’s nice to meet you.” A big smile forms on her lips and she looks behind me, at Peter before mouthing something incomprehensible. When she looks back at my she gladly takes my hand in both of hers. They’re soft and warm and the affectionate contact makes my body loosen.

“It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,” she tells me. “Why are both of you soaked, though? Did you guys decide to just hang out in the rain?” May lets go of my hand and grabs her purse off the coffee table. Both Peter and I look to each other and for the first time, I actually register that I’m dripping wet just like this morning.

“It started up when we were walking here,” Peter explains to her. She just nods as she throws on her purse.

“Well, I was going to pick up something for dinner. What do you want Y/N?” My head pops up and I study the both of them. Each of them watches me us I shrug awkwardly.

“Uh, I would hate for you to buy anything for me. I can just-”

“It’s okay Y/N. I really don’t mind. Is there any sort of food you prefer? There’s a Thai place I can pick up from.” It takes me a moment to adjust to how kind she’s being. I’ve never been treated so nicely by a stranger. Much of that is probably due to me isolating myself. When I come across people at my work though and even at the destroyed coffee where the older girl would always get mad at me for nothing it made me think adults were really just like that. The only exception being my teachers who were always just forced to be among hundreds of students a day.

Aunt May is incredible though. She hasn’t spoken up negatively about me stepping foot in her house and dripping water all over her seemingly freshly swept floors. She doesn’t act weird having me suddenly appear out of nowhere without so much as a warning. May just smiles joyfully and approaches the door.

“Oh- um- I’m really good with anything,” I fumble to get the words out. May smiles kindly and opens up the door.

“Sure. I’ll be back soon,” she replies, but before May leaves us she looks at Peter. “Oh, and honey, get your poor friend and yourself a towel before you both catch a cold.” With that she closes the door, leaving Peter and I alone together.

“I’ll go get the towels,” he whispers before moving straight past me and down the hallway. I watch him walk away for a second before turning my attention to the home around me. The whole place is lit up by multiple lamps that have a comforting glow. All of the furniture has an antique style that must be all May’s doing. Green plants line sets of shelves along with books and little porcelain animals.

“Hey Y/N?” I turn towards Peter who is holding a towel out to me. My fingers admire the soft feeling before pulling the towel away from him.

“Does your offer still stand to tell me a few things about all this magic stuff?” he wonders. I shrug weakly and turn towards the window that must lead to his fire escape. Outside the rain still pelts the ground and buildings.

“I guess so.” My eyes don’t bother moving back to his. “What do you want to know?” Peter moves to my side and casually leans on a little table. The ends of his towel lift with his hands when he crosses them over his chest.

“Well, could you tell me what magic is?” Peter asks me. I nod and turn away from the window and to him calmly despite the fast rate at which my heart beats.

“Magic is the energy we transfer into us from other universes. All that needs to be done to control that energy is to use spells that harness it.” Feeling uncomfortable just standing in front of him, I slide into a seat and drop my elbows on the table. Even though the position is far more comfortable I still feel odd with Peter just staring at me.

“Who taught it to you though?” Peter questions. I feel my chest tighten and I look down at the floral tablecloth. Pretty little flowers curl around each other. My fingers trace the petals of each one surrounding me in an attempt to distract myself from thinking too hard about Peter’s question.

“My father,” I whisper, entrancing myself with a bee I find on hovering over an orange flower.

“Really?” Peter laughs. “I wouldn’t peg your dad as an all-knowing sorcerer.” Now I look away from the tablecloth and focus back on our conversation. Peter looks down at me from where he stands as I swirl my hand in the air. Next to us, I conjure an image of the parents I drag to conferences and to talk with my principal when I got in trouble for ditching a full week.

“You mean those parents?” He stares in shock at the charming man and woman who have just appeared in his living room. “They’re illusions. A simple Asgardian magic trick. It’s also possible to do it with regular magic though it does take a lot more energy.”

“Wait, then where are your parents Y/N?” his voice is startling sincere and I have to do everything in my power to keep my expression placid.

“I think my mom died right after giving birth to me and I have no idea where my father is.” I silently go back to tracing the flowers. “Before you ask he disappeared about five years ago.” Through my lashes, I watch as Peter falls into the chair across from me.

“Y/N I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop,” I cut him off quickly. “It doesn’t really bother me anymore.” Peter immediately chooses not to bring it up anymore. We both sit quietly for some time before I look up at him. His dark, chocolate brown eyes are cast away from me. I sigh and lift my hands to support my head so I can keep watching him.

“What’s it like keeping it a secret from your aunt?” I ask him. He looks at me, taking a moment to think of what I just said. Abruptly he chuckles. I knit my brows together as he pushes back his hair anxiously.

“May actually already found out that I’m Spider-Man,” his voice fades out as he finishes the sentence. I stare at him with wide eyes before laughing just as awkwardly as him.

“That must have been,” I click my tongue to fill the space between my words, “rough.” Peter laughs again at this, only it’s real and I feel the hint of a smile on my lips. My face tilts downwards to hide it from him, shaking my head and letting my damp hair fall in front of my face.

“I’m back!” We both hear May shutting the door and walking into the dining room. In her hands are two bags that smell absolutely intoxicating. Peter quickly stands and takes the bags from her hands and places them on the table. I stay silent as he unloads them in front of me and the aroma grows stronger.

“Go ahead and dig in Y/N,” May tells me in her usual, sweet tone. I nod and respond with a numb thank you before looking down at the food. Not once in my entire life have I ever eaten with anyone else.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

My feet dangle over the edge of Peter’s apartment building aimlessly. The sky has cleared revealing the moon and stars hanging above our little world. I let my head fall back to breathe in more of the sweet scent from the mix of water and the gravel on the streets. The air wraps around me and pulls my body all the way down to the pavement on the roof. A soft sigh escapes pleasantly from my mouth as I close my eyes.

I left Peter and May’s apartment hours ago. When I first left I went to the stairs before I made sure that they closed the door, and walked back down the hall and went all the way to the top of the building. I’ve been here for two hours is what my phone tells me, but it only feels like it’s been minutes.

“What are you doing up here?” I don’t bother looking over my shoulder to see Peter nor do I bother even sitting up. Instead, I groan and wait for him to come to me.

“Just hanging out,” I grumble finally when he invites himself to sit next to me. Peter has put his Spider-Man suit back on. His mask is held limply in his hands that tells me that he must only be waiting for someone to commit a crime. After a moment I prop myself up on my elbows to watch the New York skyline with him.

We stay silent for a while, listening to the sound of cars and people still bustling around so late in the night. All the times I’ve said I love the quiet seems to be erased by just this moment alone. It’s a different sort of loud. Quiet is just peace. Lonely, barren peace that has nothing else to offer except for focus. The noise filling my head right now though holds just as much peace as the quiet, only it’s peace with life. Serenity with joy that actually brings a smile to my face.

“We could do it together, you know?” Peter says to me. I look over to him slowly. His eyes hold every last light in Queens. They flicker in Peter’s warm brown irises and I wish I could leave this place and go into the city he holds within him.

“What?” I whisper, not really focused on what he’s saying at all.

“Fight together. Protect the city. We could do it together Y/N, as a team,” he suggests dreamily. I’m ripped violently from my trance when I register his idea. My eyes drop from his when he looks expectantly at me.

“Peter,” I say quietly, finally sitting up all the way, “I’m not like you. I can’t just run around the city saving people.”

“Why not?” he asks in a serious tone. I straighten my body and shrug defensively.

“I have to work so I don’t lose my apartment,” I tell him. Peter considers it for a moment, the gears in his head turning vigorously.

“You could always come to our place,” he says. “Aunt May already told me she loves having you around. You made a super good impression when you helped clean up and talked about all your grades and everything, and she says you seem really nice and sweet.” I feel flattered when I hear what May thinks of me, and I can’t stop the grin that doesn’t help me prove a point.

I can’t leave my apartment. Not with the spell still inside my father’s room. While I would love to simply run away and leave that place behind completely I know that it is a burden I have to bear. Anyways, it’s dangerous to just sell my apartment to a regular person

“I’m not a hero,” I finally whisper to Peter. My heart falters when I feel his hand cover my own. His gloves are cold and the wiring on the outside is starting to make an imprint on my skin from what I can feel.

“That’s probably not what the kid who you saved thinks,” Peter still tries to persuade me. I laugh at his efforts and think about that little boy. He was pretty adorable. Tall for someone who seemed to be so young. He was so shocked when I rescued him. It’s not like people get to see magic every day in real life though.

“That wasn’t heroism Peter,” he cocks an eyebrow at me. “That was me being selfish and scared. I couldn’t watch that kid die. I couldn’t have the fact that I could’ve done something and just watched on my conscience. That’s all it was. My own fear and selfishness.” Peter stares at me sadly, and I know he wishes that I would just admit to myself that I’m a hero, but I know the truth.

“You could’ve just looked away,” he mumbles.

“But I would’ve still heard the gunshot,” I respond and drop my body back to the cement. I stare calmly up at the stars and close my eyes, willing sleep to take me before Peter can find a way to continue our conversation. Luckily, he doesn’t, but Peter does keep his gloved hand over mine and listens to the city with me.


	7. Part Six

I’ve woken up thousands of times. More often than not it has been because of fear or loneliness or some grey area in between the two. Sometimes I’d wake up because I was uncomfortable or felt some strange feeling brew deep inside of me that I couldn’t shake. A voice or an alarm. Now I only wake up because of my own mind pushing me to do so.

My eyes open up contently to greet the clear, blue sky above. Pigeons jump on telephone wires and fly clumsily into the air to scavenge for any food they may see on the ground. The sun has barely risen above the horizon telling me that I should have plenty of time to get ready for school today.

I yawn to the side and stretch my arms out, letting any tension in my muscles disperse. My legs are stilling hanging off the roof of the apartments casually and I already know that some people must’ve gawked at them before going along their way.

My legs act sluggish as I stand and pull out my phone. Just as I suspected it’s no later than seven, meaning that I can take a little more time to get ready rather than yesterday where I barely had enough time to get changed.

Once I’m done inspecting my phone I tuck it away and slip on the sling ring that I for some reason kept. It is coming in handy now though. I create a small portal to my house and grab my school stuff. Before closing it and racing down the apartment to catch the bus I look at my father’s door. The green light has died down enough that I can barely see it peeking curiously through the thin crevice underneath. I gulp down and let it disappear.

My brain stays empty as I travel down the stairs. I stare longingly at Peter’s apartment before hurrying the rest of the way to the door and bursting out. The moment I do though I crash into someone, slipping for a moment until my magic catches me. I let out a thankful small and push myself up on my own.

When I turn around forgiveness I come face to face with Peter. The hair on top of his head has been put a little out of place by our collision and his zip-up is a little skewed off of his shoulder.

“Sorry,” I apologize before taking a step back.

“Oh- no- it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have been standing right in front of the door,” Peter tells me. I study him cautiously for a moment before nodding. The conversation from last night is still incredibly fresh in my mind, so clear that I remember every sentence, every look, and thought. There were so many better things to retain more than his offer. May making me laugh. Peter showing me how his web shooters work. The glimmering lights stuck in his eyes as we gazed out at Queens.

“Okay,” I mumble and grab onto the straps of my backpack. My feet shuffle awkwardly as I step past him.

“Wait,” he announces and catches my shoulder. I swivel my head and regard him impassively. “Y/N, I thought, you know, that maybe we could go to school together.” His hand falls off of me. I chance a look at it again and study the bulge of his web shooters beneath the grey cotton of his usual jacket.

“Why?” I question him. For a second Peter looks completely stunned by my question.

“Because we’re friends?” Peter says it like it’s a question. I furrow my brows at him skeptically and consider it in my head. Can people just become friends after hanging out for a day? I always thought it takes longer. That any relationship takes a while to build because there are so many different factors involved in it. Trust, mutual interest and enjoyment, caring for each other, and similarities.

And I mean Peter and I have some of those. There definitely has to be some sort of trust between us after the whole mirror dimension thing, and I definitely cared about him while we were in there too. I definitely enjoy him too, and from what I’ve seen Peter enjoys being with me as well, though I’m suspicious about his reasons.

“Let’s go then,” I huff. Peter follows after me as I begin making my way to the bus stop. He jumps from topic to topic excitedly and I, for someone reason, don’t reach for my phone to distract myself. Even if he is just droning on at this point. The only time he really captures my attention is when he starts talking about the Avengers.

I observe Peter as he goes in-depth talking about crazy superheroes and shocking assassins that he has met on the team. His talking drops to a whisper and I wonder how he can possibly just continue with all this stuff when tons of people are crowded around us. I would stop him, but I enjoy the gleam in his eyes as he beams down at me and shares every last detail without hesitation.

Once he seems to be close to finishing I giggle to myself softly. This boy just can’t keep a secret. When he’s finally finished Peter stares down at me looking surprised.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he mumbles quickly. I laugh and hold up my pinky finger to him. Just something I remember learning from my friends in kindergarten as we told each other our meaningless crushes.

“Promise,” I grin. Peter beams at me and locks our pinkies together. We both don’t pull it away as though we’re waiting for some special magic to occur and really make the pinky promise mean something.

Suddenly, the bus jolts to a stop, and Peter and I’s fingers consequently break apart. I stare down longingly at his hand before pulling my gaze back up and turn towards the doors the slide open. We silently walk off of the bus and head towards the school.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Peter, Ned, and I sit in a small circle. I glare at the both of them simultaneously, clearly conveying my anger. They both subtly glance at each other and then back at me. My pointer fingers massage my temples as they both stutter and try to find the right words to explain.

“You told Ned that I’m a sorceress?” I growl. Ned flinches lightly and Peter stares in awe at me.

“I don’t think, per se, Peter told me Y/N,” Ned informs me. “He more suggested it.” My head snaps to him abruptly. Ned stares with wide eyes as I fume furiously. He automatically retreats a bit when he sees the wild look in my eyes.

“Stay out of this Ned,” I snarl, “unless you want to see my magic in person.” Ned puts his hands up defensively and scoots his chair back with the heels of his shoes.

“Y/N, why is it such a big deal if he knows. Ned knows about me being Spider-Man and he hasn’t told a soul,” Peter reassures me. I drop my head a bit, letting myself simmer down before responding so that I don’t bite off his head.

“It isn’t about that Peter. Magic isn’t like your super powers or any of the Avengers’ superpowers for that matter. It’s an energy. I flow and people like me, dangerous people, feel that.” I lean in further despite the fact no one is next to us. “Do you think that hunter found his way to us by coincidence? No. I sent out a call when I saved that kid. A challenge, and if that man has friends, other sorcerers on his side and he finds a way out of the mirror dimension not only will they be after me, but you. He’s seen your face Peter.” Worry plays with my voice like a violin, making it shake and quiver when I want so desperately for it to be collected. Peter’s hand finds its way to my balled up fist and I suck in a deep breath when I feel the contact.

“Y/N, you said it yourself. Whoever that guy is can’t get out of the mirror dimension without the sling ring,” he mumbles soothingly. My fear is implacable though, and when I close my eyes I see the symbol in my head. Burning red with brilliant yet terrifying fire.

“There are other ways,” I keep my voice to the lowest volume possible. Ned pulls his chair back towards us while Peter keeps his eyes narrowed at me. I suck in a deep breath and look around. Our teacher is lounged up against the whiteboard and all the other students have huddled themselves around someone’s phone that plays the video of me on repeat.

“Sorcerers pull energy from the multiverse to utilize it as magic, remember?” I ask Peter and he nods. “Well, there is one universe dimension where we shouldn’t take this energy from. It’s called the Dark Dimension. Pulling energy from here makes the sorcerer far, far more powerful in the mystical arts. It can even give them the capability of going against the natural law itself, and they’re marked with the symbol. The symbol we saw on that man.”

“Woah,” Ned says and discharges any nervous silence before it can settle. “That’s super cool, but my only question is, why don’t you have the same, if not more power than that guy. I mean you’re getting energy from most of the multiverse right? Unless,” he raises a finger when he gets an idea, “there is something in there feeding him power. Like a god, or deity, or maybe even-”

“Dormammu,” I interrupt. Both sets of eyes flutter to my own that stare straight past them and at the wall. “Regent of the Dark Dimension and one of the most powerful mystical beings in the universe. If his minions,” I spit out the word like it has a foul taste, “are pursuing me then…. Then I…” What do I do? This is the first time I’ve really thought hard about this problem until now. Sorcerers, monsters are after me and I don’t even know where to start. It’s like every bit of training has been dumped out the door and now I’m just a kid again, staring up at the ceiling, alone and so, so cold.

“Y/N!” the teacher shouts for me. I look away from Ned and Peter to see him. He beckons me lazily with his hand and I obediently stand and walk over to him.

“Yes?” I ask him, wanting to get this over with. He barely gets a glimpse of me before going back to his newspaper.

“Office just called,” he tells me dully. “Your father’s here to pick you up.”

I feel everything in my body halt at his words. Each nerve in my body seems to die, my visions blacks out, all noise stops, and my lungs stop taking in air. I’m floating through a black hole, being torn apart and smashed back together to make a wild creature, but I don’t feel anything.

“Y/N,” a muffled voice begins pulling me away. “Y/N, are you okay?” When I begin to see again I’m standing on wobbling legs in front of Ned and Peter. Peter’s hand is squeezing mine to the point of where I think he’s beginning to cut off my circulation. I take my fingers out of his grip and pull my backpack off of the floor and onto my shoulders.

“I need to go,” I mumble. Peter’s leg twitches like he is debating on standing, but I’m stepping as far out of reach as possible.

“Okay,” he replies. “I’ll text you later.” I nod and turn away from them before wandering out of the class and into the halls. My heart pumps faster and faster the closer I get to the front doors. By the time I’m touching the metal handles my hands are shaking uncontrollably and I have to grab my right wrist and guide it to open the door.

Beyond the gates is a car. A Tesla to be specific. Sleek and small. My body freezes as I stare at it peculiarly. By the time I’ve finished studying it on the steps to the football field I’ve realized too late that it isn’t my father. It couldn’t possibly be. His first lesson to me was to never, ever draw attention to yourself. I begin to walk back up the steps, but before I can manage to get to the top a sudden wave of fatigue washes over me and I fall over limply, closing my heavy eyes on the way down.


	8. Part Seven

I’m stretched out on a soft couch, feeling the sun shine down on my skin, warming my body up under the rays of pure light. In my lap is a new book, the sleeve already taken off and placed on the nearest safe surface to keep it from getting ruined. Just behind me, I can hear my mom and dad giggling happily. It’s probably because she managed to make one of her funniest jokes yet.

“Y/N!” she shouts at me through happy tears. “Come here darling I want to tell you something.” I groan dramatically and toss my book onto the cushion before getting up. Before I step in I hide the smile with an annoyed look. Both of their hands are connected on the middle of the wooden table, playing joyfully with each other’s fingers.

“What is it?” I drop into a chair carelessly and smile through the hair that tumbles in front of my face. My mom opens her mouth to talk, but stops suddenly, her eyes caught on something behind me. I twist around nervously and look for whatever she’s watching but I only see the wall.

When I look back both of my parents are staring past me and at the wall. “Mom?” I whisper. “Dad?” Suddenly both of their faces turn to me in complete sync, and I fall back in my chair a little. They both stand, just as simultaneously as before, a green mist beginning to drop from the corner of their eyes.

“Out,” they mumble to me. I shake my head and stand from the chair.

“What’s wrong with you guys?” I rush to my dad and shake his hand. “Dad? Dad! Please listen.” He quickly grabs my hand back only his grip is tight. Nearly bone crushing even. I wince and try to pull away. When the first bone cracks I scream out at the sudden pain. My eyes move up to him to find any glimpse of who he is.

“Please,” I cry. His face shows no remorse though and he tosses me away from him. I stumble backward and trip over my own feet, falling onto my back helplessly.

“Out.” They stand over me. “OUT!”

 

I jolt forward when I wake up, my arms straining against the straps over my arms. My breathing is fast and lacks any rhythm. The dream fades away from my memory torturously slow so that even when I think it has disappeared there is still a stain of it on the back of my eyelids. I slow my breathing as much as I possibly can before settling back down into a chair.

My body stiffens when I feel the cold metal against my back. I look down at my wrists and study the restraints that are barely tight enough to keep me from slipping out. Then I observe the rest of my surroundings. I’m encompassed by different science tools, but not medical science tools. More like chemistry and physics sort of tools.

I look at the walls, more curious than ever and see that I’m surrounded by dark tinted glass. It blocks out most light, but I can still hear perfectly fine.

“I can’t believe you guys did this,” a muffled voice moans. “How dumb do you have to be to kidnap a teenager?” I narrow my eyes and look down at the restraints. They immediately disappear and I stand. My legs nearly cave in below me before I catch myself on a glass table.

“I did my best. I got us there, I talked to that woman at the front and got her to call down for us. Magic man over here was the one who just fucking knocked her out.” I roll my eyes at their arguing and slip around a corner. The voice that just spoke does seem familiar though. I creep towards the door to hear better.

“She was going to run away,” another voice responds plainly. “We needed her no matter what as well. You guys couldn’t possibly be angry at me after I told how important it is that we get the sorceress here.” My hands fly to my mouth to cover a gasp.

I need to get out of here.

The door opens slowly when I nod my head, revealing a door about three hundred feet away. I hold my breath for a moment before jumping out of the lab and sprinting towards my exit. Moments before I wrap my hand around the handle though I feel something grab me from behind and lift me off the ground. I try to fight back with my magic while I kick and flail hoping that they will drop me.

The grip on my backside doesn’t go away though, and I’m spun around. I expect to only be angry when I see my captors, but instead, I raise my brows out of confusion.

In front of me are the Avengers, three of them at least, who are watching me with wide eyes. Front and center is Steven Strange with his head lifted in the air, obviously controlling me. I glare down at Banner, Stark, and Strange all of which seem a bit shocked by what has just happened.

“What the fuck,” I growl at them. “Why the hell am I here?” Tony Stark simpers at Strange before throwing his hands up.

“You can handle this,” he declares and turns away. Strange sighs before letting me come back to the ground slowly. I plant my feet and watch him the others closely. Banner seems to be hiding his face from me while Tony just plays with his phone. I turn back to Steven.

“Why did you kidnap me?” I snarl. Banner scoffs and looks up for a moment.

“I told you she wouldn’t think of it as a rescue,” he asserts. Steven rolls his eyes and sits in a chair that suddenly appears behind him. With another wave of his hand, I’m sitting in one as well. I don’t tear my eyes away from him for a single moment.

“Look Y/N,” I try not to look surprised when he says my name easily, “I needed to bring you here for your safety,” he declares. I chuckle and drop my head into my hands.

“I live in Queens Strange. I wouldn’t think anyone would consider me generally safe there,” I deplore. He doesn’t seem to notice my upset tone of voice, though I’m really not surprised. I do find it odd however how effortlessly we use each other’s names. It’s not like I would call him sir even if he hadn’t kidnapped me. It is weird just calling him Strange or Steven though, especially since he’s incredibly close to becoming the official Sorcerer Supreme by now.

“You know that is not what I’m talking about Y/N.” I peek at him through my fingers. “I heard the call you made to the multiverse. Y/N you utilized both Asgardian and universal magic with perfect execution. That sent ripples. Incredibly large and powerful ripples and you know what that means right?” I cross my arms and place a finger to my lips.

“Oh- hmm- let me think. Could it possibly mean that other sorcerers are able to find me now without too much effort,” I shrug sarcastically. “I know what I did Strange, and I know the consequences of it. And guess what? I’m not some mediocre kid who barely dabbles in magic every once in a while. I’m a sorceress. Fully trained and undoubtedly skilled with the mystical arts. I can handle myself.”

“I realize that you must think that this is the last thing you wanted to-” I can tell Strange is getting annoyed with my frustration but I interrupt him anyway.

“You have no idea how many last things I’ve wanted to happen actually happened this week.” I raise my hand and begin counting off on my fingers. “Well, first thing first, some idiots decided to rob a bank when I was just trying to enjoy my coffee so I had to save a kid, which, you know, started all this bullshit. Then I woke up late so I got to school thirty minutes late, and get this, it was raining. Then this guy named Peter decided to suddenly become friends with me so we went to a park and some fucking hunter brought us to the mirror dimension where I nearly died four times before he decided then would be the right time to reveal he’s the Spider-Man and help me, and now-,” I pause to take a breath, “now I’ve been kidnapped by the Avengers.”

The three of them stare at me with slack jaws but I’m still only focused on Strange. I already have a feeling Tony Stark’s shock is due to me knowing Peter’s alter ego but I’ll just eave that bridge uncrossed. “Now let me go,” I assert to them. Strange straightens himself and looks at me curiously.

“Could you tell me a little about yourself Y/N?” he wonders. I throw my hands into the air and fall into the backside of the chair.

“Did you not hear a single word I just said?”

“I did but now I want to ask you a few questions. Anyways it will give you yet another chance to harangue me,” he replies calmly. I push myself forward and observe him entirely. In his eyes there’s a gleam that dares me to say something. I push away the challenge momentarily and continue looking at him. He’s dressed in the regular sorcerer garb and his cloak looks just like it does in the books that go into detail about its abilities.

“What do you want to know?” I finally agree in a mumble.

“Your lineage,” he responds.

“My lineage?” He nods. “My mom’s dead. At least that’s what my father told me before he left.” I catch a few glimpses of Banner and Tony glancing at me. Strange seems unfazed though. It even seems like he was expecting my mouth to utter those indifferent words.

“Did you ever know your father’s name?” he asks next. I grunt and slump into the cushion.

“No. He never bothered telling me nor did he bother telling me my mother’s name,” I answer blandly, the feeling of this conversation already growing awkward because of Bruce and Tonyś staring.

¨How did you learn then,”Banner asks, obviously still nervous to blatantly walk up and interrogate me. I shrug and look at the pocket where I kept the sling ring.

¨He taught me. I practiced on my own though,”I reply to him, looking away from Strange.

“And once he left,” Banner begins. “What then? Did you just manage to provide for yourself at such a young age?” From the way he holds his glasses in his right hand I can tell that he’s relaxed a little, though there is still an aura of anxiety around him.

I nod at him calmly. “Yup.” I don’t get into the details of the issue. Not that they’re grim, just expected. No one would think that a ten year old could take good care of herself in the city of Queens. Not unless she had some other means to get money to pay for her apartment, schooling, and food. I may have been able to craft some sort of illusion to fool people into thinking I was paying them at times but illusions only last for so long and someone would notice sooner or later.

Instead, I did what I needed to do. Snatched cash whenever the opportunity presented itself and once I could pass as the working age I began changing my birth certificates and information.

“Look,” I start before I can even bother to continue thinking, “I get how you guys want to keep me safe, but I’ve been on my own for the past five years. I’m pretty sure I can handle myself, and unless you give me a specific reason I will be going.” When they don’t speak I stand up and give a half-assed smile to each of them. I turn my back to them and begin walking towards the door. My feet move faster than I would prefer if I want to seem calm but I figure as long as I get out it’s fine.

“You could become an Avenger.” I skid to a sudden stop, my shoes literally squeaking on the floor.

“Excuse me?” I whisper and turn around so that I face each of them. Tony has stepped forward a bit so that I can tell it is him who just said that. Looking with wide eyes next to him is Banner and Strange sighs tiredly.

“An Avenger,” Tony states again. “If you stay here Y/N, if you let us protect you, we can train you to become an Avenger. I keep a serious expression as I stare him down. He’s completely serious from what I can tell.

A smile falls onto my lips and I let out a soft giggle. “Really?” I laugh. Both Bruce and Tony look over at each other and back at me with a look of flat-out disbelief plastered to their faces. Each of their expressions somehow makes the idea funnier to me and I begin laughing even harder.

“You want to make me an Avenger? Oh god. Wow,” I shake my head and catch my breath. “What a concept. Well, now that the comedy show is over I’m leaving.”

“You don’t want to be a part of the Avengers?” Tony asks. I try to do my best and think of why he thinks I should even enjoy the idea of being a hero full time. Peter. From what I’ve seen Peter loves being a hero and must’ve been jumping at the idea to be apart of the most dysfunctional team I have ever seen. No wonder Tony automatically thinks that all teenager must automatically want to be on the Avengers.

“How about this? Answer this question for me, and if I like the answer I’ll stay here and let you train me,” I suggest to them. When I receive hesitant murmurs of approval I ask, “What is the workout regimen and the diet like?” Each of them immediately look a little shocked at the simplicity of my question. I tap my foot at them impatiently.

“Well-uh,” Tony shrugs. “We’re heroes so training will usually be sort of vigorous and the majority of the time you have to eat pretty healthy. At least when you’re around Steve I’d say,” he answers with his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“Cool, bye,” I twirl around and wrap my hand around the doorknob.

“Wait, is that really going to be what decides whether you stay or not?” Bruce pipes in about the whole matter for the first time. I roll my eyes and turn my head towards them, not wanting to take my fingers away from the door.

“I hate working out,” I tell them. “I hate being sweaty and sometimes even thinking about exercising makes me feel anxious. As for my diet, it is nothing compared to what you would most likely require me to eat on a daily basis. If you’re wondering what I do eat and what I can afford it’s coffee, tea, mac n’ cheese, ramen, the worst salads ever, maybe a sandwich of which always has too much bread, and if I get a little extra money I’ll buy a pizza. I really do prefer large packs of things though so I don’t have to go out that much.”

Even though I was just trying to make a statement there’s a hint of pity in each of their eyes. I grunt and swing open the door only to find myself nearly running into someone’s chest. Without even bothering to look up at the man’s face I put a hand on his surprisingly cold, even freezing arm and push him out of the way and stomp down the hallway.

“Y/N!” I hear Strange call out for me but before his magic can drag me back into that godforsaken room I snap my fingers, putting up a shield and jog down the stairs. The sun shines through large panel windows, making me feel warm. I don’t really care enough to enjoy the sunlight though as I fling open the glass doors with a wave of my hand.

At this point I just want to leave this place. It isn’t that these people are bad people nor is it because of the whole workout thing, which I actually think would be beneficial to me. It goes further than that. Further than what I’ve had to repeat to Peter. It goes to the dark place deep within my mind that screams at me, saying that I’ll tear them apart.

I’m pulling the sling ring out of my pocket when I hear someones muffled voice talking to me. Where do I even go from here? I can’t go home. Not when the spell has reawakened, and I can’t risk seeking refuge with Aunt May and Peter because of the fact other sorcerers are hunting me. That much has been confirmed by Steven Strange.

I don’t even register how much my hand shakes when I lift it to disappear. Really disappear. To dive into the void and leave this dimension and all the others. My mind only jumps to the salty water on my face for a second when I feel it drip onto my lips. I ignore it though and let the portal form in front of me.

Before it’s done though I feel a hand on my shoulder. Everything shutters to a stop and noise returns to my ears. My hand drops to my side and the loose sling ring slips off.

“Y/N? Y/N are you alright? What are you doing here?” As though Peter’s voice is a stray thread being pulled away from me, the questions make me fall apart, every seam ripping apart for the first time in four years. My legs crumble beneath me and I tumble to the ground. Tears leak from my eyes relentlessly now without my permission as Peter steps around me worriedly.

“I have nowhere to go.” Yes I do. I have the void. The endless abyss in which I can step into and everyone can just forget me. Something is pulling me away from it though. Something is dragging me away and keeping me here.

I do my best to wipe away my tears but with me still bawling it’s completely futile. Through my burning eyes, I look at Peter who seems appalled by my sudden outburst of emotion. Not knowing what to say or even how to handle it at all he pulls me into his arms and I shake against his embrace.

As his hands coax away my crying I realize the only choice I have now. I need to stay here whether I like to or not. If I can’t go home and I can’t stay with Peter then I’ll be doing the next best thing. I’ll stay here where he can still find me. It only seems fitting since he’s the one who’s keeping me from disappearing.


	9. Part Eight

I knit furiously fast. So fast in fact that I think the needles will break from the sheer frustration behind each move. They click together as I pass the yarn over the tips and yank on them as lightly as possible to make sure the stitch is tight.

Sixteen days. For sixteen days I have been stuck here in this stupid Avenger’s facility, knitting with the absolutely random supplies they had given me and repeatedly throwing a rubber ball against the wall. After I was told to stop by Thor’s younger brother who is currently under the custody of Doctor Strange I decided to begin knitting.

I hate Loki. With every tired and aching bone in my body, I despise him. He always makes the snarkiest comments, talking about how I’m a prisoner just like him. How I use children’s tricks. Tricks. Fucking tricks. Most of his magic is composed of tricks and illusions. At least I know sorcerer magic. At least I am an actual sorceress. He just brags about turning into a damn snake and stabbing Thor.

Suddenly the yarn snaps and I groan angrily. The part that annoys me the most is that I am a prisoner. Once I decided to stay officially Strange immediately confiscated the sling ring I had stolen from the hunter, though I did steal it back today just for some sort of comfort. Now I’m not even allowed to go grab my clothes or go to school. They’ve been calling me out for the past two weeks.

At this point, the only reason my grade is still thriving is because every day after school Peter brings me all the work and notes from throughout our day. Then I have to do it which gives us little to no time to actually talk. It’s absolute agony.

I moan and fall to my side, making my bed bounce a bit. The only reminder I have that there is even a world out there inside of base besides Peter is my window which looks out on the courtyard. Some days I hate the reality of it all though. The reality that the real world is out there, and I’m being kept from. It bothers me so much that I tint the windows so that any and all light is shut out from my room.

I’m safe though. Shut off but sheltered at the same time. I miss it all though, even if I hated most people the world has in it. I miss the rain, even though it seemed to have held grudges against me for no apparent reason. I miss talking in person with Ned and Peter and May. I miss the little freedom I used to have out in the world, even if I was in danger. There are forces out there though that makes it so everyone is safer when I’m in here.

“Y/N?” I hear a quiet voice and don’t answer. A second passes and I hear a knock. I sigh to myself and reply numbly, throwing my needles to the ground and turning to the window so I won’t be forced to look at whoever enters.

The tint on the glass slowly fades away so it seems as if I’m actually enamored by the line of trees in the distance. Subconsciously though I’m listening to the soft pat of their shoes on the floor. Shoes. That takes out a few people. Clint for sure is no longer in the running, which is actually a little disappointing. I know that Steve always takes off his shoes. Probably being polite or something American. I don’t know.

Bucky never initiates a conversation with me unless I seem happy enough. Thor is usually far, far more abrupt and I have a doubt he would’ve waited as long as whoever this is after first asking to come in. Loki would’ve pissed me off by now. Natasha would’ve sat at the end of my bed. Banner works until one in the afternoon and had asked Strange to help him out in some “doctory” sort of way. That leaves me with one person who is actually at the base today as far as I know.

“What do you want Stark?” I mumble placidly.

“I’m surprised you realized it was me pretty quick,” he says. “Last time you refused to look at me when I came in it took you what, thirty more seconds.”

“Well that was the first couple days,” I tell him whilst numbly picking at my cuticles. “Now I’ve picked up on everyone’s habits, routines, relationships. All that jazz.” When there’s a pause I take a peek at him. Tony’s leaned up against my wall, staring out of my window as well.

“That’s weird.” I roll my eyes so much that by the time I’ve finished I’m looking back out of the window.

“You haven’t answered my question,” I murmur.

“How can you stand just looking out of the window all day long?” he asks me. I groan and drop my head into my soft pillow. “It’s so bright in here. You could probably turn off at least one light.”

“Stark…”

“It may help with your Salem witch type stuff.”

“STARK!”

We’re both a little startled by my outburst. Tony looks stunned for a moment before quickly recovering and going back to being his normal, composed self. Outside I see the shadow of someone waiting to see if they should come in. By the broadness of their shoulders I can tell that it’s most likely Steve. He’s really the only one who would be willing to interfere to keep an argument from occurring too.

“Look kid, I just think it would be a good idea for you to get out of this room.”

“Don’t call me kid.” I begin to fume a bit at the sheer frustration of all of this. Being trapped. Being treated like a child. I prefer being called a prisoner far more than being called a fucking kid.

“Just go,” I assert before I even have the chance to let my emotions completely boil over. Even though I know my expression reads as calm I look down at my hands and see red smoke pouring over my palm and fingertips. I automatically ball them up into fists, causing a big puff of smoke to come out. Luckily Tony doesn’t seem to notice.

This has never happened before, and I’ve experienced a lot when it comes to magic. Whatever this is has never happened to me, nor have I ever studied in all more years of learning about the mystical arts. I pray silently that it may just be my aura overflowing. An overflowing aura isn’t common, but it is possible. Though I haven’t ever heard about it being so obvious.

“Y/N-”

“LEAVE!” I scream at him. A burst of air flows in from behind me and throws Tony a little off balance. The main reason he stumbles isn’t because of the wind though. I see what really throws him off balance in my reflection.

Black veins splinter from my eyes and down my face. They make my skin look as if it has shattered. I have to swallow down a gasp before composing myself. With a thought, their presence on my face is covered up by an Asgardian illusion and it has faded from Tony’s memory. Now all he remembers is me shouting at him.

“Hey,” I turn around to see who has walked in. Much to my surprise, the shadow’s owner wasn’t Steve, but Bucky, who now stands awkwardly in the doorway.

“Is everything alright?” Both Tony and I look away from each other. I cast my gaze over to the window and he just stares at Bucky.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Even though I wish for the both of them to leave, only Tony sullenly escape. Not before raising his hand to my shoulder reluctantly though. His fingertips weren’t even allowed to apply the apologetic touch when I scooted away from him.

Bucky and I remain silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. I can hear him shuffle a bit before stepping forward, where Tony once was.

“Tony’s right you know,” he tells me. “You shouldn’t coop yourself up.” I laugh ruefully at the irony of it.

“Oh wow. Now that I know I’m so excited to go for a long, clarifying walk through the living room,” I joke. “Maybe I’ll even go on an adventure into the foyer. I can’t wait.” I’m surprised to see the crack of a smile on Bucky’s lips. He shakes his head at my sarcasm, all while seemingly trying to hold back a chuckle.

“You know what I mean,” Bucky replies.

“Of course,” I murmur back. “I just- I don’t like talking to people. It’s nothing against them, I just get this feeling while I’m talking to you guys. I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin. Wait, it actually is something against Loki.” Bucky nods knowingly. “Speaking of, why the hell is he even here?”

“If I had been here longer and had more power in the Avengers I would tell you.” His grin turns into something sincere. “I’d also make sure you were able to go outside, but I don’t.” I sigh and rub my eyes. It’s much less comforting knowing someone wants me to have some freedom rather than thinking everyone wants me on house arrest.

“Thanks for the solace Bucky,” I tell him. “Didn’t make me feel better but you know- it’s something at least.” Bucky nods for a moment until stopping suddenly, capturing an idea floating around in his head.

“How about this?” he starts. “Let’s do some hand to hand fighting.” I immediately scowl at the suggestion and go back to sullenly looking out of my window. “It will help with your frustration,” Bucky keeps trying to persuade me.

“I made this clear when I first got to this place. No training and no diet.”

“It’ll be good for you,” Bucky reassures. “Anyways if you train hard enough you may be able to beat Loki in a fight.” My scowl effortlessly turns into a glare as I slowly turn to look Bucky in the eyes.

“I’m already able to beat that emo antelope in a fight.” Bucky shrugs numbly.

“I have no real proof that you’re telling me the truth.” I know there’s only one way to show him.

“Ready?” Bucky asks me. The whole time we were walking down here there was a huge smile plastered on his face. By now I’ve realized he’s already won by even managing to drag me out of my room. I wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a silent wager between everyone as to who could get me to do something besides look out my window in an angsty sort of way.

Now he’s managed to do the impossible. Bucky has gotten me into the training room, and all because he said I may not be as good as Loki. So I’m standing here now, still in my jeans and t-shirt, facing Bucky who’s stance itself is intimidating.

“You’re sure it’s okay if I use magic?” I ask nervously looking down at my hands where the red smoke still falls between my fingertips. “I really don’t want to hurt you.” Bucky scoffs.

“I’m a super soldier with a vibranium arm. I have a feeling I’ll be fine.” I nod and shake my head. My father always said to never go into a fight feeling any sympathy towards my opponent. He would say a tsunami shows no mercy to the coast. That was of course before he left me in the woods to fend for myself during Winter break when I was eight going on nine. A late birthday gift I would assume

“Okay,” I agree weakly.

All of the sudden Bucky jumps towards me, and I have to fall to the ground to avoid his grasp. I’m only given a second to stand back up and face him again. My heart is palpitating in my chest only in the way it did when my father would force me to fight him in the mirror dimension.

Just at the memory of it, I freeze up. Bucky doesn’t move either. He watches as my hands begin to shake wildly and my slow breathing turns into hyperventilating. I can’t even move as Bucky worriedly steps up to me.

That is until he raises his hand to my shoulder. Then my instincts from a decade of training kick in and I grab his arm, using his momentum against him and slamming him into the ground. I can tell that some magic had flowed into me to help, but most of it was just automatic. All because of my father.

I wait patiently for Bucky to stand up but then I throw another punch and he catches it in his hand. To my luck, it isn’t the metal one.

My fists don’t stop flying though. For some reason, it feels like I’ve been put in the backseat of my own mind and there is no driver anymore. Every action I take is done on impulse now. Bucky isn’t holding back anymore though like I thought he would. Now he’s fighting, fighting. His movements are completely defensive and I finally comprehend I’m on the offense now.

Every punch I throw gets harder and harder. I feel my hands getting hotter from the heat emitting from them and I feel like they are going to abruptly combust. Every atom in my body wants to stop fighting Bucky. Despite my feeling physically and mentally drained, my body continues moving without my permission. Beads of sweat drip down my face on onto my shirt. They’re the only sort of relief I get.

Only when I suddenly have Bucky’s arm twisted around his back do I back away from him.

“What the hell?” I mumble, frightened by myself. Each of my hands is not only leaking red mist but dripping with blood. Or maybe it’s just an impossibly, incredibly well-concentrated aura.

I look up to check and see if maybe the fluid is Bucky’s but I’ve done no harm to him besides bruise and put the soldier into a state of shock.

“Y/N you need to calm down before you pass out,” he lifts his hands harm slowly as to not alarm me. I do my best to slow down my breathing.

“What happened to me?” I tuck my hands into my chest to try and halt the liquid and smoke. The red water, or at least I’m hoping it’s water, drips down my shirt, staining it

“You had a fight response,” he tells me. “A really bad one. It’s okay though Y/N. I get them too.” I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair.

“Why?” My voice quivers and I have to work extra hard to keep tears slip down my face.

“You’re the only one who knows the answer Y/N.” Surprising the both of us I back away to the door and slink out. Luckily Bucky knows not to follow me, and anyone who tries to talk to me as I make my way across the base is consequently ignored.

My father once had me fight someone besides himself in the mirror dimension. A woman with a kind face, no taller than my dad. My father reminded me that she meant nothing to me. We weren’t connected in any way. That, I could feel myself.

Then he told me my challenge was to run a knife through her heart. At first I refused, but my dad told me he could heal her so she would live. He reassured that she would only feel it for a second.

Naively I obliged him as I always did. I listened to him and charged towards the woman who never once moved. Only when it was too late did I realize something was wrong.

I saw the look in her eyes. The terrified, helpless eyes of a teenage girl, who was old as I am now. It disappeared though as soon as I plunged my knife into her heart, killing her instantly. She never even fought back nor did she bother run. The girl was just as frozen as I was. The only release she had was when I released her from this life and she slumped forward onto my blade. It was then that I realized it wasn’t a fight, but an execution.

“Now you know death Y/N,” my father whispers to me in the secrecy of my room. “Death is apart of you now, just as much as I am. You will become death.” I whip around wildly to look at him, but he isn’t here. Just like always.

Suddenly, feeling too trapped I reach under my mattress and yank out the sling ring I managed to keep hidden from Strange. The window is quickly replaced by a portal and I step through.


	10. Part Nine

I stood near the edge of the balcony, using my magic to keep me completely steady in the chaotic wind. At least that’s how it’s behaving at the top of an eight hundred foot building. For some surprising reason, the Avengers figured this building wasn’t a good place. In my opinion, it’s far better than the isolated base in Upstate New York. My opinion doesn’t really matter when it comes to things such as that though.

For the first time in a long time, I’m hearing the sounds of the city. The honking of cars as they speed home and the shouts of people. They’re all much better at night then they are in the day I’ve found. For nearly six hours I’ve been here sitting on the edge of the old Avengers’ tower, waiting to see what happens.

I’m sure by now they have all realized I disappeared from the base and are now engaging in a manhunt to find me. Sadly, I have a feeling Peter has been excluded from that hunt. Out of everyone I’d want to recover me, I’d prefer him. Next would, of course, be Bucky if I hadn’t nearly broken his arm earlier. A piece of me has a feeling it will be Tony who finds me, which will be far worse. I’ll probably receive some sort of lecture when he first uncovers me and then he may even go as far as grounding, though I don’t see the point in it.

Strange will obviously be taking away the sling ring and I’m already stuck in the base. Real torture would be forcing me to hang out with Loki for a week.

I groan and sit back down, still making sure I’m anchored to the metal roof so I don’t fall. My hands straighten themselves so they’re extended above my head. Through the triangle I make with my fingers I can make out every single star. Each and every one. Blinking on and off because of passing objects. I move my hands to see more and find that the most peace I feel is when I hear the sounds of the city while watching the galaxy.

My mind starts to wander and I think of all the planets with all the cities much like this one. All with bright stars of their own that may be easier to see. There’s sorcerers out there too, drawing the same magic into themselves as me and casting the same spells as me. I wonder if anyone out there heard the call too. Maybe someone is coming for me to steal me away from this place. I may be able to do it myself. I’d just need to see it. Then I could leave.

“The Aquarius constellation is supposed to be out tonight,” I hear Peter and sit up quickly. “It’s supposed to be right above us.” I smile genuinely as the disguised hero strolls up to me easily. He pulls off his mask and his hair bounces as it is released.

“I didn’t think they’d send you to find me,” I tell him. Peter shrugs and plops done next to me staring out at the city.

“They didn’t,” he chuckles and I raise an eyebrow.

“Wow,” I grin. “Peter Parker the rule breaker. Who would’ve thought?” He scoffs and eyes me in a judgmental way.

“Says the girl who ran away in the first place.” Even though I know he’s just teasing something strikes a nerve and I need to avert my gaze. “Y/N? Why did you run away?” he whispers gently while placing a gloved hand on my back.

“When I was younger my father said I had ten minutes to get to schools and ten minutes to get home,” I begin to explain. “On weekends I was not permitted to go more than fifty feet from the table where I was studying. I moved it a foot once when I was four and he bolted it to the ground. When he suddenly left one day I stayed there and refused to tell anyone, consequently isolating myself from everyone. Then I stayed there for six more years out of obligation.”

“Y/N?”

“Now I have been taken in by the Avengers who claim to want to protect me, but like every time before, I’m just a prisoner.” I watch numbly as a single car stands still at a stop light before speeding off as quickly as possible. “Whether I am imprisoned by myself or someone else I’ve always just been caged, like a bird. They nurture me. Build me up as high as possible. Encourage me to be more but just like always I’m kept in the cage. I feel like it would be better to have my wings clipped.”

Peter effortlessly pulls my body into his. I lift up my arms and wrap them around his own. My fingers trace the lines on his suit and for the very first time, the smoke stops pouring out of my hands. Now they’re just hands that can hold him close to me.

“They will listen if you just talk,” he mumbles into my ear knowingly. I just nod and place my head on his.

“Wow.” Peter and I both jump when we hear a voice boom angrily. “How romantic.” Behind us, Tony’s suit is hovering like some sort of all-knowing angel. The suits arms are crossed and I know that I was right when I said I’d be getting a lecture.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“You stole from Strange, nearly broke Bucky’s arm, and involved Peter in your little adventure to an eight hundred foot building at midnight,” Stark growls from the other side of his desk that has been cluttered with different types of technology. “Is there anything else I should know?” I look down at my converse, not willing to make eye contact with him.

“Bucky is the one who asked me to-”

“Do not put this on Bucky,” he asserts angrily. “Don’t you realize that we’re the only thing keeping you safe right now from whatever is after you? Can you not get it into your head that if you go outside you may not come back in one piece.” Finally, I look up.

“You think I don’t?” I laugh. “I understand that more than anyone. It doesn’t take a sorcerer to realize there is a shield around this whole base. The thing is for most of my life I have been a prisoner. Either it was my father or my mind’s doing. Now you have taken me in and I can’t help but feel like that is still all I am. A prisoner.” Tony keeps his lips pursed as he shakes his head and looks down at a file.

“I am thankful,” I reassure him. “I understand that you are the people keeping me alive and I need to learn to trust your judgment, but please Tony, just give me the same trust I’m willing to give you. Give me a little freedom.”

“What type of freedoms would you like?” he asks me. I have to hold back my excited smile.

“Let me go to school,” I suggest. “Maybe even allow me to go out once or twice a week.” When I see him grimace a bit I jump forward as quickly as possible. “I’ll do whatever I need to do. I’ll hang around one of you guys or even Loki if I have to just please, please give me this Tony.” For once he meets my eyes before casting his gaze behind me.

“What do you think Strange?” I look behind me and see Steven Strange, standing calmly by the closed entrance. He watches me closely.

“Banner and I have figured out a way for you to leave the base and still keep your powers incapacitated so they’re not sensed,” he informs me. “No more stealing from me though. Speaking of…” Strange holds out his hand for me to return the sling ring. I pull it out of my pocket reluctantly before tossing it to him.

“Anything else?” Tony asks seriously as he steps around his engineering desk.

“Yeah,” Strange mumbles almost incoherently. “We’re gonna have to teach the spider kid how to fight people with mystic abilities.” I immediately seem just as confused as Stark who even peeks at me to make sure he isn’t the only one who heard what Steven just said.

“Spiderling and magic fighting?” Tony wonders out loud.

“He won’t be doing the magic during sparring.” He points at me. “She will.”

“Wait, what?” I try to figure out what’s going on.

“From what I’ve heard Peter is with you throughout most of the day,” he explains patiently to the both of us while pulling out a clear bangle. “If that’s the case he would be the best person to protect you from anyone while you can’t use your magic.” I process what he just said and look at Tony, who seems just as confused as before.

“Peter is in all of my classes every day,” I tell Tony kindly as I watch Strange tighten the bracelet so that it can’t slip off during the day. Doubting Steven will tell me anything more I decide to just ask Banner about it. “Sparring with each other would probably be good anyway so I can learn more hand combat while he trains to defend himself against the mystical arts.”

Tony groans and rubs his scarred fingertips against his skull. “Fine,” he agrees with us, “but I want to talk to Strange in private. Okay Y/N?” he grumbles. I step away from the both of them shyly and make my way to the door.

“Okay,” I whisper suspiciously. “I’m going to get to bed.” Tony nods and Strange exchanges a tired goodnight with me as I shut the surprisingly thick door.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I lay down on my bed in complete silence. Earlier Natasha was kind enough to unlock the something on the control for the room so that my window can slide open, leading to the small balcony I always figured was just for show. Trusting me, she left me alone with an obvious and easy escape route after only squeezing my hand and saying that she will see me tomorrow.

My legs are cold on top of the plain comforter. I wouldn’t expect them to be warmer if the window was closed though since I’m just in shorts. My torso, however, is at the perfect temperature because of the blue fleece sweatshirt I have on. It’s one of the ones from Midtown to show “school spirit.”

All of the sudden I hear something land on my balcony and I turn to see who it is. Standing with his index finger pressed against his mouth is Peter. He has changed into his normal clothes and has a backpack full of things unknown to me.

“What are you doing back here?” I laugh quietly. Peter beckons me towards him. Pretending to be annoyed I roll my eyes dramatically and rip the lavender colored blanket off the foot of my bed. I pull it around my shoulders and tiptoe outside.

“I brought some leftover Thai May and I had a few days ago,” Peter lets me know as he puts his bag down and quietly pulls out four containers full of food. “Sorry if it’s not warm anymore. It takes a while to get down here. I thought Thai would help you feel a little more connected to Queens while you’re away though.” I smile and look into one of the containers.

“This is perfect Peter.” I place the food down and hug him. “Thank you for everything.” Peter hugs me back and I feel so shockingly secure in his embrace.

“It’s nothing Y/N,” he insists. “You’re family.” I purposefully give him a knowing grin and tip my head down. “Oh-uh not in a way like that though. You know any of that ring- wedding stuff. Not like inheritable family but you know May and I love you a ton, in a platonic way of course. Totally platonic. I’m sure May would love it if we got together or something but you -it’s- it’s platonic and we’re super good friends. I enjoy my time with you a ton. You’re awesome to be around and-” I grab onto Peter’s arm to stop his rambling.

“I know Peter,” I giggle happily. He nods and looks away so I don’t see too much of the warm blush on his cheeks. I look away and throw down my blanket. Peter looks back at me as I sit on the plush lavender and pat the spot next to me, inviting him to join.

“Oh yeah,” I say just after finishing my food. “I may have accidentally given you more training.”

“What?” Peter asks, taken back by the suddenness of the statement. I lift my wrist and show him the bracelet. He stares blankly at the clear, bulletproof glass bangle on my wrist.

“It’s supposed to subdue my magic when I’m outside of the base’s perimeter, and since I won’t be able to keep myself safe from any sorcerers who may come after me while I’m at school again I’ll need someone to help protect me,” I extend my arm to him so he can look closer at the jewelry. “Strange believes you are the best fit to do it since you’re already around me every day.” Peter looks up at me curiously, seeking everything I’m holding in.

“Is this what you want?” I smile at him and look down at my hands.

“Today something happened, something I so desperately wanted to explain,” I begin confessing to Peter. “I called it the outcome of my father’s torture. What he made me do as a child. Horrible, horrible things that I hate myself for to this day. I want it to be that. But…”

“But?” Peter encourages me to continue. I grin and look at the courtyard.

“But there’s a piece of me- a frightened piece- that feels like there is something that I can’t comprehend right now. Something much scarier than anything I’ve felt, seen, or done.” I raise the bracelet up to both of our faces. “This, however, can curb what’s inside of me, whatever that might be, until I can control it fully. Until I know what it is.”

“What if you can’t figure out what is inside of you?” Peter wonders anxiously. I bite my lip and shrug, looking down the whole time.

“Then it’s all hopeless,” I tell him, “and I might as well just disappear now.” Suddenly Peter places his hands on each side of my face and pushes my chin upwards so that I can look him in the eye.

“You are not hopeless,” he asserts with a foreign edge in his voice. “You are incredible and powerful, and kind, and whether you accept it or not you are a hero. There is so much in you Y/N that makes you worth hoping for. We will figure out whatever it is inside of you no matter what.”

“Peter,” I shake my head and try to stop him before he continues. In his eyes, there’s pure determination in it them that I admire more than anything else in the world.

“I will stand by you no matter what and we’ll figure this out together.” I don’t reply to him. Instead, I look at him, completely enamored by what he just said. Peter’s so good. That isn’t meant in any way to be an understatement at all. That is who he is. Pure, glowing good. He’s like the sun. I’m drawn to him. I want to gravitate closer and closer to him until I am one with the warmth he emits.

Suddenly my eyes flicker to his lips. I doubt it was even a second but it was long enough for Peter to notice. His eyes stay on me attentively as I place a hand on his forearm, luckily avoiding the web shooters that would’ve splattered embarrassment all over my face, and lean into him. As we get closer and closer my heart beats faster than ever before. I feel like it may just crack my rib cage if I keep going.

Then I can feel the heat coming off of his skin, and like a moth to a flame I’m drawn in closer and closer, wanting to get lost in everything Peter is and ever will be. His being is everything I want at this moment. I want to connect with Peter and be able to bare my heart and soul to him.

And then I stop.

Our faces are only a centimeters away from each other. Before he can realize I’ve stopped though I move to the right a little and press my lips into the space right next to his own. His hands stiffen against my head awkwardly. I move forward though and allow the left corner of my mouth to draw a line along the side of Peter’s face. My free hand goes up to his other wrist and simultaneously I drop them so they’re hung on my shoulders while I embrace his limp body.

Peter takes a little bit to understand what just happened before embracing me back. I stay patient though. Anyways it gives me more time to hold onto him.

“I better go to bed,” I mutter sadly. “I’m going back to school tomorrow and need to be ready.” Peter nods against my shoulder and lets go of me. Automatically I feel the loss of heat and not even the thick blanket is able to suffice.

He silently packs away all of his things and slings on his backpack. While he’s standing I demurely take his hand so that he can help me up, but the moment I’m up my brain tells me to let go and I listen.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispers before turning away. Peter raises his hand so that it’s pointed at one of the cell towers. As always it shoots with perfect accuracy. He holds onto it and pulls back, getting ready to launch into the air. Right before he does though I grab onto the handle of his backpack and turn him towards me, crushing my lips against his.

Peter immediately reciprocates the action and kisses me back just as passionately, pushing one hand through my hair so he can hold me as close as possible. I effortlessly move my hands down his shoulder blades and back up his spine, causing him to shiver before I even manage to run my fingers through his soft hair.

Just like I wanted, I get lost in Peter, saying screw it to the voice in my head that keeps telling me to stop what I’m doing before it’s too late. I’m sick of it isolating me and keeping me caged though. Whether it likes it or not I’m freeing myself and my escape is Peter.

I separate my lips from his and gasp for air. Peter pants as well while admiring every inch of my face, from my jaw to the mussed hair that feels heavier on my head than usual.

“Goodnight Peter,” I murmur breathily. I separate from his touch achingly. He just nods in response, so dazed that a piece of me is afraid to let him go flying off into the night.

“Night,” he replies, and I know I’ve never seen a smile so wide. I watch, feeling a little lonesome, as he disappears into the tree line. The moment I know he can’t hear me though I laugh to myself happily, not once in my life feeling so bubbly. I waltz into my and press the button that closes the window.

As soon as it shuts though my mood drops and I feel pressure on my throat. I gasp and try to claw at anything that may be constricting my breathing but my hands only find air. My body collapses to the ground like a brick. I look up from the floor and see him looming over me.

He looks just like he did the day he left. The only difference, of course, is the symbol of the Dark Dimension branded onto his head. His presence is different too. Just looking at him has made me want to sink so deep into the ground that I’m unrecoverable.

His breathy chuckles are needles that pierce my skin mercilessly as he crouches done and grabs my chin like he would when I was younger. The movement is so sudden that I’m afraid that my neck may snap. My eyes instinctively shut so I don’t have to look at him anymore.

“I told you no,” he snarls. I open my eyes fearfully only to see him drawing back his hand.

The second before his bruising palm meets my face I’m shot out of the trance and back to where I was right before I started choking. I still feel it against my skin though, just like I did ten years ago. My eyes dart around, letting my paranoia show shamelessly. Tears begin to slip from my eyes and I can’t do anything to keep them from falling now. Soon enough ugly sobbing is escaping my throat and I’ve summoned everyone around me.

My fingernails dig into my skull as Natasha and Steve burst into my room. They obviously try looking for something but there’s nothing here, not anymore at least. Now he has hidden back into the depths of my mind.

I slow my breathing down so I can form a comprehensible sentence.

“It’s okay,” I cry. “It was only a nightmare. I’ll be okay.”


	11. Part Ten

I shove my hands into the clay hard. It bends and moves around my palms effortlessly. In my head, I’ve been continuously counting out each time I wedge the malleable stuff. Currently, I’m up to three hundred fifty-seven. By now everyone who was wedging with me has gone to throw but I’m still here, stuck in my head.

Whatever had happened last night was not the first time. Even with that being the case I haven’t had a flashback that severe for three years. Not since I locked and bolted the door to my father’s room. I should’ve known though that that wouldn’t have kept them at bay forever. They were destined to come back no matter what.

It happened in consequence to me using my magic for more than just illusions of fake parents. Like Strange said, I sent out a call to the universe and that call somehow managed to break through the barriers of my mind.

“Y/N?” I hear someone ask me. I look up and make eye contact with I girl who I believe has the name Vera. She looks from me down to my clay curiously while I begin wondering how she knows my name.

“What’s up?” I wonder nonchalantly. Her eyebrows quirk up now and she flashes a weird look at my clay again. My eyebrows raise as well.

“Your hands,” Vera tells me, “You’re going to rub them raw of you keep wedging your clay.” I lift my hand from the ball of clay and look at them. They aren’t raw but my muscles and tendons ache from my elbows down. I stretch out my arms to try and diffuse the soreness. Instead, the pain just gets worse and I drop them back onto the wedging table.

“Hey are you okay,” she asks me before placing the back of her hand to my forehead. I flinch a bit at her actions, and luckily enough she doesn’t seem to notice. “Jesus Christ Y/N you’re burning up. Do you need to go home?.” I look up slowly, very explicitly confused by her concern.

“Why do you care?” I murmur curiously with no hint of sarcasm anywhere in my voice. Vera bites the inside of her mouth before leaning on the table. She peaks around the wall that separates us from the wheels wear everyone is working on their projects. There’s a sudden fracas and I realize someone must have turned it up to high, making a chunk of their clay fall fly off.

“Look,” she whispers to me, “I’ve been asked to keep an eye on you.” I furrow my brows.

“By who?”

“Your Avenger friends obviously, or at least the message was conveyed to me through my cousin from one of your Avenger friends.” I look up at her blankly, feeling more confused by her statement. Realizing she hasn’t helped me comprehend what’s going on, Vera sighs and stands up straight.

“One day I’ll explain this to you a little more in detail but right now I really do think you should go home.” Vera moves uncomfortably close to my face, studying me. “You look like shit.” I scowl at her observation. It may be true but I definitely feel like there were other ways to word the phrase. Maybe I kind, “You don’t look well,” or even, “You’re not looking too hot Y/N.” Either would have worked fine.

“Fine,” I agree begrudgingly. “I guess you’re right.” She smiles proudly and walks around the corner, me on her tail. She effortlessly picks up my bag and throws it on her bag. As we’re walking out she barely even calls out to our ceramics teacher to let her know we’re leaving.

I continue to follow her obediently down the hallway to the front office. Everything about Vera is assertive. Even the way her blonde hair swings hypnotically back and forth draws attention. Any and everyone in the hallway is infatuated with her and once the total count of longing stares gets to ten I become far more annoyed than before.

“Have you messaged the base yet?” she wonders.

“I don’t have any of their numbers,” I respond slowly. On the off chance that I somehow do I check my contacts. The first surprise is that there are suddenly one hundred more than I had yesterday. I scroll through them all, eyeing each one as I go.

“How-”

“Stark or Banner probably synced your phone with Friday while you were out,” she explains to me confidently. I stare past a piece of hair that has fallen in front of my eyes and look up at Vera whose hair is shining liking gold in light of the sun.

“Well, that seems like a genuine invasion of privacy,” I remark plainly as I press the one contact that says Friday on my phone before typing in the message and sending it. Vera scoffs at my placid reaction while throwing open the door to the office. She walks in easily like this hasn’t been her first time just strolling into the front office.

Actually, this is definitely not Vera’s first time. If I remember correctly she beat up a kid just last month for calling her a slut.

“What are you doing down here?” I look up and see Peter who must be turning in the paperwork so he can go on a field trip for the AV club. Vera decides now would be the time to take off and bursts back through the door, smiling mischievously at a teacher.

“I’m getting picked up so I can go back to the base,” I tell him tiredly. “I feel like shit, and it seems that I also look like it. At least that’s what Vera said.” Peter hurriedly drops his paper into the inbox before rushing towards me. For a second I’m shocked by his urgency as he helps me settle into a chair.

“Are you okay,” he asks fearfully. I wave my hand weakly to diffuse his anxiety.

“It’s nothing. I just had a rough night.” I realize immediately that I didn’t word that right because Peter retreats a little into himself. As quickly as possible I grab onto his hand to reassure him.

“Not like,” I smile. “That may have been the only good thing that happened that night. After you left though I just had a really bad nightmare.” Peter’s expression gets a little better, but not much.

“What type nightmare,” Peter interrogates apprehensively. I drop my eyes from his and look down at the two armrests that separate. If I could, I’d make them disappear, turn to ash so that there can be nothing between us right now.

“Hey,” he whispers and tilts up my head gently. My eyes meet Peter’s right before he presses his lips against my forehead. I sigh and hold onto his hand tighter.

“You don’t need to tell me Y/N,” he states as he sets his chin on top of my head in a soothing sort of way. “Just know that I am here to listen, alright?” The words in his throat vibrate against me, giving them more weight. I nod and hide my head in his chest.

“I know,” I reply. “It was just about-”

“Y/N!” the front office lady shouts for me. “You’re ride is out front.” I groan and pick up my bag that Vera had dropped in the middle of the room. Peter grabs onto my hand quickly before I can leave for the day. He stands up and looks at me one more time with his gentle, milk chocolate brown eyes. I grin and place a comforting kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll see you for training later, okay?” Peter nods plainly. I release Peter’s hand from my grip turn towards the door, opening it far gentler than Vera had only a couple minutes ago.

As soon as I’m outside of the school I’m greeted by the cold. The omen for a harsh winter rushes me to the only car parked in front of the school. Unlike Tony’s gleaming Tesla, this one is far more modest. A newer dark blue Honda Civic if I’m not mistaken. He does have one those in his collection though I wouldn’t think it is a top choice of his.

Not wanting to be stuck in the same situation I was in only a couple of days ago, I wait impatiently for the driver to reveal themselves. I’m relieved when I see Steve in the driver’s seat of the car after he rolls down the window. I open the door surprised to see him out of everyone else picking me up from school.

“Cap?” I laugh awkwardly as he leans across the passenger seat and pushes the door open. “How come you came? I mean I’m not complaining it’s just that I thought Tony would be getting the message since I sent it to Friday.”

“He asked if I would pick you up,” Steve tells me as he, once again, reaches across the passenger seating and shuts my door for me. I nod numbly and look out the window. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wanted it to see Tony to apologize for all of yesterday; from the fight he doesn’t remember to me running away.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve captures my attention again. “Tony just had to work on something at the base and wondered if I would be willing to get you. Speaking of, how are you feeling? Is it about last night?”

“Maybe,” I mumble, not really understanding what is happening myself. “Unless nightmares can cause spontaneous fevers in the middle of the day I doubt it would be that though.” Cap takes his eyes off the road for a moment to take a peek at me. I must look bad because his eyes darken a bit and he hesitates before looking away from me again

“Do you want me to grab you anything?” I shake my head and look back out the window. Far in the distance, I can see a hoard of clouds beginning to accumulate. A bolt of light jolts out of one making everything within a couple scare miles shake.

“Thanks Cap, but I’d rather get back to the base as soon as possible so I can rest,” I answer. Steve nods his head, continuing on the road that will lead to the base.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Wearily I enter the bottom floor of the base after Steve told me to go on in while he parked Tony’s car. Agents and other workers meander around aimlessly as I pass by. Most of which I’d think would have gone home by now. Even some of the doctors are still at the base even though there is no point in having a doctor around when no ones fighting. I raise a comprehensive eyebrow and travel the rest of the way to the elevator, too lazy to climb stairs.

As soon as I make the way to the top I trip over something and fall forward. My knees hit the ground hard and the soreness in my arms from ceramics splinters up my forearms again, making me groan.

“Lady Y/N!” Thor shouts to me. In under a second, he has come over and picked me up off of the ground like I was a pencil. With his help, I stabilize myself and look backward at a long cord that goes back and forth. Finally, after realizing that I must have been droning out any sound when I walked in, I hear the constant buzzing of the vacuum.

“Are you okay?” Thor asks me worriedly. He scans my whole body for any cuts or bruises but I doubt he will find any seeing that I’m covered head to toe in thick clothing. “Why are you not accompanied? Shouldn’t you have someone with you if you’re sick?” I scoff and step over the cord carefully.

“It’s just a cold Thor. It’s not that big of a deal.” Despite what I just said Thor grabs my hand and guides me to the kitchen where he pulls out different types of food and medicine. I watch helplessly as he ransacks the fridge and pulls out the very first bottles he finds in the cabinet, which are Midol and gummy vitamins.

“Are these meant for your illness?” he raises both things to my face innocently. I grimace and put a hand on each of his and push the bottles back down to the countertop.

“No,” I tell him calmly while lightly shaking my head. “I don’t need medicine or a five-course meal right now though.” I gesture to what used to be all the contents of our refrigerator. “What I need is to sleep.” Thor raises his eyebrows at me.

“Then why aren’t you?” he wonders. I laugh back, too tired to be annoyed in any way right now.

“Thank you for reminding me.”

“Of course Y/N,” he grins. “I’ll wake you for supper.” I give him a thumbs up and retreat to my room. When opening my door though I find myself staring at Tony who tapping against my wall for some reason.

“Tony?” I question the reliability of my own mind for a second, but he turns around and gestures for me to come closer. Reluctantly I do what he wants. We stand side by silently for a moment, just staring at my blank wall.

“Say something,” he whispers as quietly as possible. I raise an eyebrow but I don’t question what he says. Cautiously, I turn to face the wall, eyeing exactly where Tony was typing.

“Hello?” I say suddenly, a little too loud for my comfort. Instantly light bursts across my wall, filling the room with light. The image of a large forest begins to materialize in front of me. Being so realistic I feel like I can step right into the picture. Instead of going through any sort of portal through my fingers make contact with my wall.

“I know you wish that you could have a little more freedom while you’re with us kid, even after the compromise we made yesterday,” he begins to clarify the purpose the new tech. “Until we know you’re completely safe out there though we need to make sure you’re in here, with us as much as possible. I just thought that this would help you feel like you’re not so caged, and yes, I know that stupid phrase with the gilded birdcage but for now, this is-”

“It’s perfect,” I interrupt him. We both seem a little shocked by the tears that have appeared at the rims of my eyes. I blame it on my sickness and lack of sleep, but I know deep in my soul why I really care so much about this gift.

When I lived with my dad he gave me nothing. He gave me only the five outfits I would have to wear every day. I was taught to be thankful for it because he would say that I didn’t deserve any more than what I had for not doing my lessons correctly. Throughout my lifetime I had believed him. Now I have this though; a gift given when I have done nothing to even warrant Tony’s kindness.

“This means the world to me,” I finish before swinging around and pulling him into my embrace. Tony stiffens against me, waiting a second before he gently pats my back to reciprocate the gesture. When I realize just how uncomfortable this is even for me I pull away and look back at the screen.

“You can also use it as a verbal diary,” he informs me as casually as ever, “or to search up things since it’s connected to Friday.” I nod quickly, unable to keep my excitement at bay. “You should get a little sleep though Y/N.” As he says it I realize something important.

“Yeah,” I shake my head. “I’ll see you in a few hours for dinner.” Tony doesn’t notice the conspicuous change in my behavior and he goes through the door, shutting it and turning off my lights on his way out.

Now the whole room is illuminated by the green glow coming from the wall. I look at it, feeling something to push me what I want to do. What I need to do.

“Friday?” I ask for her presences.

“Yes Y/N?”

“If I were to project an image of someone to you, would you be able to use any sort of facial recognition?” The AI thinks for a second, a few seconds too long, before responding.

“I’m afraid that requires Mr.Stark’s assistance, Y/N. If you’d like I could-”

“No-no-no,” I stop her before she is able to call for him. For a few seconds, I wait to see if there is anyone coming to my room. After I know for sure though that no one has been contacted I take a deep breath and look back at the wall.

“Tony’s already here with me,” I assure her. In a snap second an illusion forms around me, making it appear as if I am the billionaire. “What do I need to do?” I ask her, using his voice. I’ve never felt so terrible and guilty for doing something like this, but in my life when a door opens I can either go through it or lock it again and I’ll be damned if I don’t go through this doorway.

“Please remain still for a retina scan,” she orders me. I stand completely still as the light flashes past my eye. My breath is stuck in my throat as I wait to see if Tony’s technology can see right through the faced. The screen blinks to white and my heart skips a whole two beats.

“May I see the image for the facial recognition process.” Finally, I sigh and use what little energy I have in my to conjure the last memory of my father. Not being able to bring myself to look at his face I stare straightforward as Friday sifts through her vast memory to find a match. While she does that I pace nervously around my room. Every disturbance makes me look up, very obviously paranoid.

Abruptly I hear the ping that means she must have found something. I turn towards the wall, hopeful as ever, and look at a blank white screen.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” she apologizes in her monotone voice, “There is nothing on this man in my database.” I stare gaping at the screen. Friday’s database is every database in the world. Tony has connected her to it all, and she has come up with absolutely nothing. I fall backward, luckily landing on top of my bed.

My father isn’t even a ghost. People have memories of ghosts even if they want to forget them. He on the other hand never seemed exist in the first place. There is no one to be angry at. No one to want to seek vengeance for my own dirty soul through. No one to hate. That is what Friday has told me at least, but I know the truth. He was there. He was the one who taught me magic far beyond his own novice skills and I will find him, even if I have nothing to depend on.

I’ve done better with less.


	12. Part Eleven

“Again!” Strange shouts at both Peter and I. We’re panting hard with our hands placed on our heads. For weeks we’ve been training together, or rather, against each other. Today I’d say we’re tied. Peter has five wins and I have five wins with two draws.

“Could you explain to me why exactly Peter gets to wear his Spider-Man suit while I’m literally in a sports bra and leggings?” I groan and push back my hair frustratedly. Strange keeps his arms crossed calmly as he studies a replay of our last fight with Steve who’s here to make sure neither of us dies. At least that’s what I got from the explanation of our training day.

“We’re doing this to mimic a real-life situation Y/N,” he tells me. “Therefore he’d have his suit as long as he’s prepared daily, which he needs to be.” I nod and gesture for Peter to toss me my water bottle.

“Okay but,” Strange rolls his eyes, preparing for me to disagree with him as I take a swig of my water bottle, “those sorcerers have some crazy relics. I saw one, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t even taken from this planet.” This seems to finally get a reaction from Strange because he drops the video so it’s not right in front of his face and makes eye contact with me.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that they got a fucking magic sword from another planet in our universe,” I glower up at him. “Believe it or not, Sorcerer Supreme,” I add a harsh bite to my words, “there are other planets out there with sorcerers just as, if not more powerful than the both of us. Peter needs to be prepared for that.” Strange keeps his placid expression as he considers what I just said. Meanwhile, Steve has a look of subtle bewilderment strewn across his face.

“Fine,” he retorts. “Peter, go into instant kill mode.” Both Peter and I freeze in our spot, sharing a shocked look.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Steve begins to say, but Doctor Strange lifts up his hand, demanding a chance to explain.

“Don’t worry. Y/N will be using an instant kill of her own.” He smiles at me and I share the exact opposite expression. Instead of arguing though I just sigh, shake my head, and turn back to Peter who is waiting to see what I do.

“No holding back Spidey,” I smile at him. Peter shakes his head, still unsure, and pulls down his mask.

“Same goes for you sorceress.” I scowl sarcastically at his comment before shaking it away. Everything around me numbs out as I focus my magic, letting myself fall away from the rest of the world. As Peter asks Karen to turn on instant kill I search for my old weapon of choice. I feel the leather-wrapped hilt form between my fingertips. It coils up my arms, almost like friends embrace each other after not seeing them in over a year.

I open my eyes slowly once I know I have formed the weapon completely and look at each of them. They’re all, for lack of a better word, surprised by the weapon I was able to summon. Not many sorcerers have the capability of calling for a weapon such as this one. Most can only manage a thin golden whip. I, however, can create a long, thin obsidian needle that is as tough as steel. A thick string of gold that resembles a snake wraps up the length of my forearm to keep us from disconnecting. I feel it beating against my own pulse, reminding me that for the time we are joined, we are one unit.

I drop the tip to the ground, creating a spark of blue when it hits the floor with a sharp ringing. Peter’s mechanical eyes widen bit, and it’s enough for me to see that he’s in awe. Steve doesn’t know what to think from what I can get a peek of, and Strange… Steven is, for this first time I’ve seen at least, frightened.

I drop my eyes from him and direct my energy back towards the fight. The suit’s eyes have contracted, only revealing a menacing circle of glowing red. Trying to figure out how exactly I’m going to go about this I narrow my eyes at him and spontaneously swing the needle around my head creating a halo of neon blue.

Suddenly, before I’m able to do anything else, Peter fires a web at me, and I barely manage to dodge it. We both look silent at the little spot of webbing on the wall that is so strong that a pulse of electricity course up the wall and onto the ceiling and hits the lights, causing them to short circuit.

“Okay,” Peter whispers, drawing my attention to him, “so that’s what instant kill does.” I roll my eyes and keep a small grin from spreading across my lips. Of course he’s never used instant kill.

I push it out of my mind and charge towards him, drawing a waving line in the air behind me. He shoots another web as a defensive move. It wraps around the needle and I have to swing it in another direction completely to keep Peter from taking advantage of my momentum completely. I drive the needle towards him again and just like before he uses a regular web to pull it away from him.

Finally, I realize that he isn’t in instant kill anymore. Somehow, when none of us were paying attention he told Karen to go back to the default mode. I growl internally, somehow angered by it.

“Fine then,” I growl before all of the energy around me is sucked into my body. It pulses up, through the needle and into each of my nerve endings. I gasp subtly at the surge of power. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Strange and he seems to be just as shocked by my choice as I am.

Abruptly, I begin attacking again, only this time they’re far more ruthless. Peter continues to use his webs to direct my swings away from him but I can tell that it is getting harder with every action I make. Now we’re dancing through the blue wires of light my weapon is creating in the darkened training room. With each artistic thrust, my blade gets closer and closer to him.

I remember fighting my father with this weapon I crafted from my own dreams. To this day I still don’t know how I did it but it’s been inside of me ever since, and for five years it has been begging to be set free again. It’s been used to kill, to my own horror, and I hate how easily it was for me to bring the needle back. This weapon is my instant kill though, and if Peter ever meets another sorcerer I doubt their weapon will be holding back.

Finally, in one long drawn out movement, I drive the needle towards Peter, snapping his webbing. I stop, a mere centimeter before it punctures his throat. A gust of wind snaps behind my back, sending my hair flying in front of my face. My breathing has been cut into a rough pant. My chest heaves dramatically.

“We said no holding back,” I utter to Peter breathlessly. “They will not hesitate to kill you Peter… so you have to make a decision; instant kill or death.” I drop the needle from his neck, making a string of blue as I relax finally. Peter pulls off his mask slowly.

“Not on you Y/N,” he declares passionately yet gentle. “Never on you.” I grin and shake my head, retracting my weapon back into it’s metal sheath. Once the obsidian has hidden in the gold, the shining snake slithers around my wrist to match my other bangle in a way that compliments it. One to inhibit my powers and one to sharpen them.

“Don’t be so sure.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

After training Peter had decided to stay for dinner. He just told everyone that he needed to go home and talk to May before he came back, which actually meant sneaking onto my balcony again.

We sit together now, enjoying the cool breeze after our training. Our legs are intertwined in one another. I drop my head onto his shoulder and watch as he plays with my scarred fingers. Peter flips my whole hand over and stares down at one long slash across my palm.

“Where did you get these from?” he wonders to me. I smirk and tilt my head enough so that I can look at him.

“Pick one,” I tell him. “There have to be at least ten stories for them all.” He looks closer at my hand and tries to decide on one to choose. I watch him curiously, wondering how he could’ve possibly recovered so quickly after training.

“How about this one,” he points at a small one first. I emit a short, quiet laugh before pulling my hand close to my face as well. My tongue clicks against the roof of my mouth as I try to remember the exact story.

“I actually think this is the one from when a girl named Jessica pushed me over at school,” I chuckle at the memory. Peter shakes his head and grins as well. He moves away from me, leaving my head unsupported and looks into my eyes to make sure I’m not lying.

“How the hell did I manage to pick the least badass one?” he asks. I jokingly push him away from me.

“Hey,” I act offended. “She shoved me because I told her to leave this boy she was bullying alone. In my opinion that’s pretty badass.” Peter beams at me and I feel myself withdrawal the smallest bit.

“Yeah,” he agrees dreamily while leaning in and pressing his lips against my own sweetly. “I’m picking another one though.” I let him lift my hand up again and look for a different scar to learn about. “This one?”

I tip my head over my palm and look at the thick, pale scar. “Mmm…” I hum. “You’re gonna love this one.” I adjust so that I can engage as I tell him the story. “When I was younger and still lived with my dad he had me go into the forest for two weeks, during the winter, with no materials or food or anything that would’ve been helpful.” Peter raises his eyebrows at me.

“You’re lying,” he claims. I shake my head and look back at the scar.

“Nope. Daddy thought it would be a good idea to teach me the useless skill of surviving in the woods, sort of like algebra two,” I quip. Peter titters and rubs at the scar, half mindedly like he’s trying to make it disappear.

“And this one?” I let my eyes fall to the next scar and bring up the memory that comes with it.

“Mirror dimension,” I remark. “From my dad during training to be specific.” Peter points to the next one. “That’s another forest one, and that one’s from trying to figure out how to use my needle for the first time,” I continue answering, not waiting for him to ask the question first.

“And this big one?” I follow his slender fingers back to the biggest cut on my whole hand. It stretches from the tip of my middle finger and down to the ball of my palms. Hesitantly, I pull my other hand out of my jacket’s pocket and show it to him. On it is the same exact scar. They both have the same exact symmetry as each other; from the tips to where whatever cut me slipped and nearly cut into the skin on my thumb as well.

“I don’t know,” I answer and look up at him, my eyelashes shadowing my eyes. “They were there since I could remember, and maybe even before that.” Peter slides his hands across my own before bend his fingers so that they’re wrapped together. I smile and rearrange the position so that I can hold his hands against my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper sullenly and close my eyes.

“For what?” Peter ponders to me. I shrug and pull his right hand towards my lips, kissing his knuckles.

“A lot,” I respond. “Mainly for kicking your ass today in training but-”

All of the sudden Peter jumps onto me. I yelp as I fall backward, allowing myself to be helpless as he crawls over me and smirks down. A wide, toothy smile appears on my face as I look up at him.

“You had a weapon,” he reminds me.

“Eh,” I mumble. Startling Peter, I grab his face and pull him into my lips, thanking god that he has braced his arms beside my head the whole time.

As he kisses me I lift a hand to his soft face that contrast the deep cuts lining my hands. We both can’t help but smile into the kiss. Strands of Peter’s hair fall onto my forehead, making me giggle out loud. He breaks away from my lips so I can laugh happily even though I don’t have a reason. His eyes lovingly trace the lines of my face as he patiently waits for me.

“Y/N!” Clint shouts from just outside my door. Panicking, I throw Peter off of me.

“Shit,” I whisper. “What’s up Clint?” I call out quickly while making eye contact with Peter the whole time, who seems just as terrified as me.

“Dinners ready,” he tells me. I grimace and stand up, forcing Peter to his feet as well.

“Okay. I’ll be out in a second.” I drag Peter towards the balcony. While looking down to see what’s below me I listen to make sure Clint has walked away. “You need to come in through the front,” I announce to Peter faintly. He nods and looks over the edge, judging how far down the shrubbery below us is.

My head snaps back to the door and my heart begins palpitating even faster than it already is when I see the door handle twist. Without giving it a second thought I push Peter towards the railing. When I realize my hands come in contact with his back far too suddenly though my breathing stalls. I look over the railing frantically, making sure he didn’t get hurt when I pushed him over the edge by accident. I sigh out of relief when I see that Peter’s already gone.

“Y/N, come on.” I twirl around and see Natasha standing in my open doorway. After a moment of catching my breath, I nod silently and follow her out of my room. She leads me into the dining room where food has already been set up.

“Nice to see you out of your lair magician,” Loki sneaks up behind me abruptly, causing me to jump. He sneers at me as he steps past my still body. With a smug look of my own, I raise my middle finger at him. Only do I stop when Strange presses it down and gives me his signature look of disapproval. I roll my eyes and fall into my seat, occasionally looking at the stairway to see if Peter is here yet.

“Waiting for your boyfriend?” Natasha taunts from behind. I turn around as soon as I comprehend what she just said.

“How did you-”

“I saw you shove him off your balcony,” she comments while sitting down in the chair to my left. “Also it’s pretty obvious when you two have been sending heart eyes at each other for the past couple weeks. At least it is to me.” I moan and drop my head into my hands. I should’ve known Natasha would notice. She always finds out.

“God,” I grumble. “Is it really that bad?” She just furrows her brows at me, giving me my answer.

“No one else has realized so you don’t have to worry. If Wanda weren’t still on the other side of the world with Vision I’m sure she would’ve known too but for now you can keep acting as in love with the spider-kid as much as you want,” she advises me and takes a sip of her wine, which is nearly as red as her blood-colored lips.

“I’m not in love,” I inform her shortly.

“Hey, guys.” I immediately perk up when I hear Peter’s voice. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.” Our eyes connect and I smile shyly, having to divert my staring to the foodless plate in front of me so the blush appearing on my face isn’t so blatant.

“Sure,” Natasha drones. I bite my lip and lift my gaze back up.

“Can I sit here?” Peter asks. I take a breath and put on the most apathetic face I can.

“Sorry, but I already told Loki he could.” Before I’m even able to finish the joke a giant grin has broken through my facade, letting Peter know to take the seat next to me. Shamelessly I reach into his hair and pull out a leaf from the shrub he fell in.

“Are you okay?” I ask while placing the orange leaf on the table.

“I’m Spider-Man,” he soothes while pushing is hair back in a relaxed sort of way. I laugh and shake my head at the idea that he thinks, “I’m Spider-Man,” is a real answer. Instead of pushing the conversation more though I pick up the leaf again and push it into my pocket.

As we’re all eating, exchanging conversations with the people around us, Peter’s hand finds my own. By some miracle, I don’t feel in any way uncomfortable or strange because of the affection. In fact, I embrace it and tighten my hand around his own encouragingly while continuing to listen to Clint and Tony’s pointless arguing.

For a second the world slows enough for me to really take it all in. A content smiles whispers across my lips. This moment in time where I’m surrounded by these incredible people I’ve come to know in the past month is almost enough to make me forget about my most recent, most dangerous ambition.

Almost.


	13. Part Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't posted in such a long time. I was focusing on upcoming tests and completely spaced. I'll be posting a ton of chapters back to back to try and make up for it though! Enjoy!!!!

Mornings after are odd. No, I don’t mean the morning after that people my age will talk about. I mean the morning after anything in general. Even though last night was just a small dinner with the team I still feel that sort of emptiness anyone gets after any event, like a child on the ride home after their best friend’s birthday.

This morning after I wake up with a harsh aching feeling in the pit of my stomach. The fresh orange rays of sunshine burst through my window happily, bombarding me with the new day. I glare at the happy circle that climbs up the horizon, and I try to think to it that I’m not in the mood. It persists upwards anyways, lighting up all of Uptown Manhattan with the promise of a sunny Friday even though the ground is covered in a blanket of October snow.

Groaning, I sit up on my bed, tossing the white comforter off of my body before standing. The pain in my stomach expands and my stretching doesn’t act like an anodyne to the soreness. I know now that it isn’t real. It’s just a sort of void filling me up to remind me that not every night is going to be like that.

I slump out of my room, knowing that no one else is going to be up this early because of the multiple bottles of liquor that were passed around the table last night. As I step into the hall the tint on every single window fades away until the excitable sun is back to chase me.

Much to my surprise, I see someone sitting leisurely on one of the stools by the kitchen island. He bites into the apple and reads an old newspaper that must have arrived weeks okay. Easily enough, I ignore him and wander into the kitchen and pull out a whole box of cereal with no bowl, spoon, or even a carton of milk.

“Who are you?” he asks me as I shove my hand into the box and grab a handful of “Froot Loops”.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I retort and drop the whole thing of cereal into my mouth. When I look back down, chomping annoyingly on my breakfast, the man is just studying me calmly.

“Sam Wilson or Falcon is what I’m better known as,” he tells me. I create a low hum of approval in the back of my throat, finally realizing who this man is. I’ve heard enough about Sam Wilson to know this is where he should be. Steve talks about him occasionally when I’m around. I’ve also seen the footage of him fighting though, and if I’m honest I admire him a little bit. Only a little though.

“So you’re the bird guy people talk about.” I grab another piece of cereal and toss it into my mouth.

“And you’re some random girl I’ve never seen in my life,” Sam replies to me, arms crossed in a defensive sort of manner. I narrow my eyes in an accusing way, acting as if I’m appalled he still hasn’t realized who I am.

“I’m the girl.” Deciding to use the opportunity I’ve been handed I continue by saying, “Stark’s daughter?” All of the sudden Sam’s eyes widen like he’s hear the worst news on the face of this planet.

“Stark has a daughter?” he wonders, confused in every way possible. I laugh suddenly at how much he believed my lie and walked to the fridge, pulling out a cold bottle of water.

“I’m kidding. If there were two Starks I have the feeling the press would’ve already had a field day with it,” I confirm and take a sip of my water. “I’m just the girl they kidnapped.” Sam watches me closely, obviously trying to figure out if maybe this time I’m lying. My expression remains still though.

“Okay,” he murmurs and shakes his head. When he lifts the newspaper back to his face I take it as my queue to leave and get ready. Behind the closed doors I can hear a couple shuffling feet. Other than that though most of Earth’s mightiest heroes are still out cold on their beds after having five too many glasses of wine last night.

I step into my room, moaning deeply. Sifting through the closet I settle my eyes on one of the newer sweaters that Natasha had delivered to me a few days ago. It settles on my body nicely when I throw it on and I complete the outfit with a pair of light wash jeans and combat boots that I had been able to hold onto from my apartment.

Suddenly, my phone rings, making me jump as I hurry to answer whoever it is. A wave of delight washes over me when I hear Peter’s voice on the line. In the background, I can make out May packing up for work before shouting a quick “I love you,” to which Peter answers with the same exact words.

“What’s up?” I ask finally as I yank a jacket off of my hanger and slide it on.

“I just wanted to see if you were feeling okay,” Peter informs me. “You got really quiet after dinner and I guess it just didn’t feel right I guess.” I smile at the thought, but the aching in my stomach suddenly grows worse as I think back to last night.

All throughout dinner I was perfectly fine. I enjoyed eating with everyone and carrying out conversations about myself, even though I did keep it vague. Then after everyone had gone to bed I sat with Peter on the couch, or rather I sat in his lap. Everything seemed peaceful then. Something happened though. Just like when I fought Bucky I fell out of control. I couldn’t speak or move or hear even. I was paralyzed for what must’ve been an hour before I regained passage to my own mind once more.

“It was like you shut off,” Peter calls me back to him, yanking me from the sea of my own conscious so that I need to answer him.

I open my mouth to answer but stop myself when I see a black mass suddenly shoot down from the sky and land in the middle of the courtyard. Peter tries to grab my attention again, and I know he must be afraid I’m shutting down like last night. I’m staring out the window though. I eye the white powder to see if I can find whatever just fell.

Abruptly two large black wings extend themselves from the snow and flap maniacally. My heart shutters a little, and I lift the phone back to my face where Peter is still trying to shout for me.

“I need to go,” I mumble hurriedly. “I’ll see you in an hour.” He tries to keep me from hanging up but I slam my finger into the end call button and toss my phone onto my bed arbitrarily. It bounces off and drops to the floor. I’m already out my door though and I couldn’t care less about it.

Racing past Sam who watches me cautiously. “If anyone asks tell them I’ll be right back,” I order back at him loudly. Running so fast down the stairs that I nearly trip, I collide with a scared agent who I twist around with an apology and let him go.

The brisk air hits me harder. Maybe even harder than the actual person I ran into, but I keep sprinting to the fallen bird. My feet pound into the ground hard. Snow flies up behind, making a wake of frozen flurries. I don’t realize how fast I’m moving until I skid to a stop mere inches before stepping on the crow.

It squawks fearfully at the sight of me and shakes its wings. I look over the damage of the bird has somehow obtained. The left wing, now covered in snow, is bent at an awkward angle and there are little spots of crimson in the snow.

Maybe, if I didn’t have magic I would’ve sought out the help of someone. Sam probably since he was standing right there. I do have magic though, and while I may say that it only causes me hardship and suffering, I know how much good it does. It can do the impossible and right now; it can heal the broken and bleeding crow cowering at my feet.

Slowly, as to not scare the crow anymore than it already is, I crouch down to its level and extend my hands. Reacting purely on its visceral horror the bird lets a long screech out and makes yet another attempt to fly up into the air with its limp, useless wing. I wrap my hands around it quickly though so that the damage doesn’t get any worse. My hands hold it tight against my chest while she, at least that’s what I think, pecks at my exposed wrist, drawing blood.

I wince and push my energy into her. She instantly settles down and accepts the gifts I am pushing towards her. Her wings twitch a bit, understanding that I’m healing the broken bone and stopping the bleeding.

Out of all the things I learned from my father as a child, healing was definitely not one. He told me it was a waste of my own energy and that the consequences of healing a living thing, especially from the point of death, could leave the sorceress to face dire consequences. Being obedient, I heeded his words as a child. Now I finally have the dedication to act on my own will, and the crow is proof of that.

He was right about one thing though. After healing even a bird I feel completely drained. I clench my jaw tiredly and open my hands so that she can fly away. The crow stays a moment, cocking her head at me curiously before shaking the snow out of her feathers and flying into the air. I smile up at her silhouette as she flaps her newly healed wings.

 

“Y/N!” Vera yells at me as I walk across the football field. I stop so she can catch up and look behind my shoulder, eyeing her friends who lean into each other’s ear probably wondering why their friend is choosing to hang out with me. Once Vera reaches me she “lightly” slams her fist into my shoulder blade.

“Ow!” I growl at her and rub at the new sore spot.

“Where the hell were you?” she asks me accusingly. I shrug defensively feeling that that should be a good enough answer. Vera’s eyes stay stern though.

“I just woke up late,” I tell her at feel around for the faint swelling on my back. “Christ Vera, did you really have to punch me?”

“Peter was freaking out,” she notifies me. “He tried calling you ten time, and that was just when he was standing right in front of me having an anxiety attack.” My eyes become hollow, and I reach into my pocket to find my phone.

“Shit,” I bemoan and lift up my hands to massage my temples. “I left my phone on my floor.” Vera rolls her eyes and points towards the front of the school.

“Well here’s your boy toy now.” I look up from the snow and allow my eyes to meet Peter’s. He runs towards me, obviously angry and worried because I hadn’t picked up any of his texts or calls. I’m a little shocked at how quickly he’s able to reach me. Then I remember he’s Spider-Man. If anyone can sprint twenty-five yards in three seconds it would be him.

When he reaches me Peter’s eyes automatically begin inspecting me for any marks that could mean I went through I major struggle this morning. He doesn’t find any conspicuous ones though. His gaze does lock on the deep bags under my eyes though and his gentle hands go up to touch them.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” Peter asks gently. I smile and grab his hand, pushing it down.

“I left my phone on the ground while I was rushing to get ready,” knowing that is a good enough answer I go on my tiptoes and kiss his forehead. “I’m sorry, but you don’t need to worry so much Peter. I live with the Avengers. If anyone can keep me safe, it’s them.” I reach for his hand and begin leading him to the school so that we aren’t late for class. He nods robotically and I see that his eyes are locked on something on the bottom of my throat.

“What’s that?” he wonders to me. I cock an eyebrow and look over at my left shoulder, which is covered in a deep purple bruise that branches up to my neck. Peter lifts a hand to the mark and barely presses the tip of his pointer finger into the middle region. Even though I do my best to stifle it I wince through my clenched teeth. Now Vera is staring as well and all eyes are on the angry bruise.

“Y/N?” Peter questions, suddenly stern. I’m still studying my shoulder though, trying to figure out where the hell my injury even came from. Reluctantly, I pull up my jacket and sweater, revealing that the contusion branches all the way down the left side of my back. Suddenly, I know exactly what caused it. I hide it quickly, but I can tell that Peter caught a peek.

“I need to tell you something,” I remark, looking down at my shoes to hide my fear. Peter’s hand touches the bottom of my chin though, tipping it up slowly. His eyes have lost there intimidating intensity and have resolved to worry. Vera must realize that I only want to talk to him because she falls back to her group of friends again, leaving Peter and I alone.

“What do you need to tell me Y/N?” he rushes me and I smile a bit at the amount of dedication he’s showing to me right now.

“I healed a crow,” I answer plainly at first. “My father would tell me not to do it when I was younger. He said the cost was too high and it required too much unnecessary energy. I never knew just how much though.” I use my hand to open my shirt enough so that Peter can see the damage healing causes.

“How did healing do this to you?”

“I don’t know the specific reason. My dad didn’t want me knowing a lot about that form of magic, and even went as far as taking pages out of books so I couldn’t learn it on my own.” I shrug. “What I do know is that it is the transfer of energy from one thing to another, just like how I’ll derive energy from the universe. It’s an easy enough process but I guess if it’s not done correctly the healer develops some of the victim’s injuries.” I touch my back lightly, grimacing when even that hurts.

“You should’ve asked Strange to help you,” he tells me while squeezing my hand simultaneously. I nod.

“I wanted to do it myself though. It meant something to me that I help the crow to be able to fly on my own.” I recount the memory, the surge of emotion as I realized what had fallen from the sky. Most things I’ve done were with the permission of someone else, that was done on a complete whim though with my mind playing only the smallest part.

Finally, Peter’s usual beam surfaces and he hugs me, purposefully avoiding the bruise much to my relief. “You’re incredible,” he remarks to me. “Maybe too much for your own good.” I smile and nuzzle his collarbone.

“Oops,” I chuckle into his warm skin, my hands wrapped around his wrist, feeling the bump that the web shooters make beneath Peter’s jacket.

I wonder if people feel the same way when Spider-Man saves them from fiery buildings or shootouts. This is a sort of safety I’ve never had the chance to feel before. Not one moment in all of my life have I known that I am safe yet free to go wherever I please. 

I cling to him harder now, knowing that if I have come to understand that Peter would be willing to let me go I may just run out of pure instinct. Escape from the world, him, and never look back. Maybe I might’ve wanted it months ago but now I don’t. Now I just want Peter to hold onto me and keep me from running.

“Hey, Penis Parker!” Suddenly the moments over and Peter and I separate achingly while preparing for Flash’s tirade.

“What do you want Flash?” Peter grumbles. We watch him suspiciously as he stalks over to us. In his hands, I can see the keys to his brand new car that he must’ve gotten after Spider-Man supposedly ruined his old one.

Casually I look up at Peter who stands next to me defensively. Then I look to Flash again and I see why. His eyes are on me like a vulture watching mutilated pray and I suddenly feel flattened by the strange fervor.

“I just want to talk to your girl Peter,” Flash only speaks to him but his eyes are still locked onto me. “Wednesday Addams, right?” I roll my eyes and go for the water in my bag to show I couldn’t give a shit. It’s not even a good joke in my opinion. I can’t think of a single time I’ve looked remotely like the girl from that movie. Maybe I behave like her I guess.

“Back off Flash,” Vera suddenly buds in and shoves Flash a bit, but he doesn’t back down.

“Damn Y/N, you have everyone protecting you,” he laughs snarkily. “Maybe we should call dad and get him to save you. How about Spider-Man too?” My hand suddenly becomes numb and I nearly drop my water bottle. In fact, every nerve in my body has been burnt and I can’t feel anymore. The cold doesn’t bother me. Whistling birds are quieted. I can’t even sense Peter’s hand on my own.

“Excuse me?” I whisper to Flash.

“Babe,” Peter tries to soothe me but I shut him out. Looking up from the snow I completely focus on Flash who is smirking victoriously.

“I’m just assuming that I shouldn’t call him daddy,” his eyes skip over to Peter. “I’m pretty sure he already has that title.” Boiling rage bubbles up in my throat and I have to clench my teeth to keep the burning hot liquid from spewing all over Flash’s face.

“I recommend that you choose your next words wisely Flash,” I assert to him in a low voice. He just laughs though, finding it funny that me, the girl that has always closed herself in, is fighting back, even if it is just a little bit.

“You should pull out your phone right now,” he refers to what I left at home. “Go on and call your dad so he can settle this.” I want to slam my fist into his face. Shove him to the ground and beat him senseless. I remain stoic though, lifting my head a bit and turning around while dragging Peter with me.

“Hey!” Flash shouts at me suddenly. I keep walking away though, doing my absolute best to just get into the school.

Then he grabs onto my wrist though and I can’t stop myself from swinging around, ripping my hand from Peter’s, and slamming it into Flash’s temple. He’s knocked to the ground immediately. The people around us begin murmuring, but no one is willing to speak too loudly about the situation and I’m glad. I doubt anyone will tell either.

“Never,” I glare at him from above, making myself seem bigger in a way, “never touch without my permission. You do that again, you let another word slip out of your mouth referring to my father and I will knock your spoiled ass out no matter the consequences.”

I turn away from him again, rushing away from the scene with Peter and Vera on my tail. Once we’re in the safety of the building I stop suddenly. I had thought doing that would release some of my anger, but it’s worse now. Instinctively I grab onto the same spot where Flash grabbed me.

“Y/N,” Peter draws my attention to him. Seeing the grave look on my face he gestures to Vera, who is watching worriedly, to go on and get to class. She nods and walks away, glancing over her shoulder once.

“Hey,” he murmurs once she’s gone. “It’s okay Y/N. You’re okay. It wasn’t your fault, and you didn’t do anything wrong.” Peter holds onto my shoulders. His thumbs rub circles over the space where my neck and shoulders meet in an attempt to calm me.

“No,” I shake my head. “I should’ve been in control. I shouldn’t have lost it.” Peter smiles before embracing me tightly, not allowing me a chance to disconnect from him.

“If anyone is allowed to lose it it’s you Y/N. You’re allowed to get angry. Maybe not punch someone when they do piss you off,” he suggests, making me chuckle lightly. “It was pretty good to watch though.”

I nod against Peter’s body and take a long deep breath before separating from him. There’s still a giant pool of anger inside of me, but I’m able to hide it from Peter so that he doesn’t fret about the situation any more than he needs to.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As soon as I enter the base after school the facade I was keeping up throughout the whole day falls down. Agents watch me curiously as I stomp across the foyer and up the stairs. I try to toss my backpack from my shoulders and onto the couch to make my frustration very clear to everyone around me.

My bag doesn’t make it to the couch, however. It drops at my feet and I yelp, gripping my left side to choke down the pain. Strange looks up from what he’s working on over at the dinner table right away.

“What happened?” he wonders curiously and begins to approach me. I shake my head and pull off my jacket tiredly, doing everything in my power to not aggravate the giant bruise anymore.

“It’s nothing. I just hurt my shoulder,” I tell him plainly. He sees right through the lie though and pulls my shirt to the side just enough to expose the dark contusion that sends splinters through most of my body.

“You healed something,” he states with only a hint of worry in his voice. Strange’s eyes move to my own and I know I can’t deceive him so I just nod. He sighs and steps away.

“I’m sorry,” I grumble, feeling the compelling need to apologize.

“It’s okay,” he reassures me far too quickly. “I’m going to grab you something for the pain.” I just nod and watch Strange as he disappears into the hallway.

“Oh no.” I feel myself sink further into my anger when Loki’s voice abruptly pipes in behind me. “Our mediocre magician hurt herself. How terrible.” I turn around just in time to see Loki flips open his book far too dramatically. My eyes narrow at him.

“Do you just want me to kick your ass?” I growl at him, letting the once tamed rage boil over again. At this, he raises his eyebrows, very amused by my blatant show of rage.

“I’ve never pegged you as one to want to fight others,” Loki smiles smugly and I smirk right back at him.

“Just you.” I grin menacingly and he stands up. “Let’s go God of Hot Topic,” I tease. Before Loki can respond with a snarky comment of his own I turn and stride towards the training room and without a word, he’s following as well. I’m sure Loki’s enjoying the cockiness inflicted by my own anger. That’s probably why he’s indulging me in the first place.

We both enter simultaneously. Bucky stares up from where he’s working and he must know what we’re up to because a look of reluctance spreads across his whole face. Despite it though I continue forward.

“Are you guys sparring?” Bucky asks even though I know he already knows the answer.

“Mmm hmm.” I wrap my hands up in white tape. Once I’m finished I can barely flex my fingers, only leaving me the choice of balling up my fists for our fight.

“You sure that’s a good idea Loki?” he wonders next and I’m a little flattered that he’s worried about the demi-gods well being when it comes to me. I put my head down smiling mischievously.

“I’m a god,” he counters positively and turns towards me. How he can fight in all that leather I have no idea but whatever advantage I have, even if it’s because of his horrible sense of fashion, I will welcome it with open arms.

“Stop bragging and let’s get this over with,” I say before he can continue to lecture us on why Asgardians are better. Loki steps into the ring, seemingly glad to finally see what I’m worth.

“Are you ready, little magician?” The moment he says it I throw my fist forward and Loki’s barely able to dodge the move. He looks stunned for a moment, but soon enough he’s attacking me. Even with such heavy clothing, he moves easily and I have to work extra hard to block each punch and kick. The pain in my shoulder gets worse, and despite knowing this I go faster and harder than before. My movements become shockingly rapid and I begin feeling confident that I can win this fight.

Then Loki delivers a punch to the left side of my body, causing me to lose the air in my lungs and fall to the ground. I grab onto my rib cage and grind my teeth together.

“Cheap move Loki,” I grumble to him and look up. He’s smiling, victorious and proud while offering me a hand. My eyes fall on it and I realize what he wants me to do. Loki wants me to take it and make a feeble attempt to pull him to the ground when he’s off guard. We both know that he’s stronger than me in more ways than one, but I’m smarter than he thinks and I know what I need to do.

I pretend to be hesitant as I take his hand and once he’s ready to respond to what he thinks will be my attack, I swing my legs around, knocking his own out from under him. As soon as I can I jump back up and retract the obsidian needle from my bracelet and raise the tip right above his jugular. Now he’s in complete shock.

“I win,” I boast. Loki considers this with a wide grin.

“Sure,” he replies before hitting the bottom the needle and knocking it away from his neck. I fall for a moment before bracing my hands on either side of his neck. While I’m hissing at the pain that bolts up my back, Loki takes advantage of the situation and wraps his fingers around my wrists.

Suddenly I’m shot into an old memory from my own mind. One that I barely remember except for the faint glimmer of the hospital lights above me as I emerged from the absolute darkness. An ear-shattering wail is released from the bloody child that had just been removed from its mother. I watch, horrified and feeling far more vulnerable than ever. My eyes can’t be torn away as the women’s hand falls completely limp by her side and a crowd of doctors surrounds the mother quickly to try and save her life. Before they do though I catch a glimpse of a tattoo on her arm that I faintly recognize from my studies.

I’m ripped from the memory abruptly, like the child from her mother and the mother from this world. I fall away from Loki. My eyes are wide with terror. Loki’s, however, are wide with surprise and what I assume to be excitement.

I want to scream at him. Ask him what the hell he did to me. My mouth runs short of any words though and all that can escape my lips are short puffs of air.

“You’re,” he whispers, completely awestruck. “You’re descended of Valkyrie.” I swallow down hard and try to understand what he just told me.

“I’m what,” I ask shortly. He shakes his head to try and compose himself but Loki’s enthusiasm can’t be hindered. His eyes dart to mine, trying to see something important in them.

“Asgardian,” he mumbles to me. My heart skips a beat, maybe even five, and I look away from him to the door that has just opened to reveal Strange, who keeps his expression blank to make it seem like he hadn’t heard a word Loki just said. I know those eyes though. I’ve looked in the mirror and I have seen that same exact glint. It belongs to a fearful liar who just realized their illusion is falling apart.


	14. Part Thirteen

Only ten seconds earlier was all my rage directed at Loki. Every angry punch and kick and low growl. Now Strange is here though and my fury has found a new home in the Sorcerer Supreme.

I stand slowly, imitating a lion getting ready to pounce for blood. He doesn’t react though. He remains still and composed, keeping his chin raised at me but I see his hand in the most subtle defensive position any sorcerer can have it in. On each side of me, Loki and Bucky watch curiously to see what happens next.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I whisper, wanting to keep the edge in more voice a little hidden. His eyes don’t falter. The fear in his eyes fall away and suddenly I don’t feel so good about what I’ve done. There’s been so much horror in people today. It’s all been because of me. It was in Flash’s eyes, my peers’ eyes, Loki’s and Bucky’s, Strange’s… even Peter’s. My hands fall limply to my sides and I just stare right into Steven’s eyes, doing my best to uncover an answer.

“Let’s talk,” he says finally. All of the sudden I’ve been transported out of the training room and into his room. I fall forward immediately, the dizzying effects shocking me after not transporting in so long. A huff leaves my mouth and it is lit up by a blue haze.

My eyes narrow, wondering how that is possible when this room is nowhere near cold. I stare up from the mist and look down the giant hall that stretches past what I assume is the back wall of the base. Blue lights are coiled up against the interior, lighting up the whole expanse of space until I can’t even see their glow anymore.

I lift myself from the floor slowly, gaping excitedly at the whole room to really take in what I’m seeing now. Upon hundreds of shelves there are old books that are weather, objects that are lit up with energy, and talismans I thought only existed in the books I read. My hands wander curiously to a crystal ball made of a cracked open geode. The crystals inside begin to spark happily when my fingers begin to approach.

The moment before I’m able to touch one Strange pushes my hand down calmly. “Don’t touch anything,” he tells me before going off and sitting in a chair. Just as I thought, when I look behind me there is a cushioned chair waiting for me to sit patiently.

“So are you going to tell me why you chose not to tell me about my mom?” I fall into the seat, maintaining eye contact with Steven. He makes a cup of tea appear out of thin air and grabs it.

“You’re very special Y/N,” he answers through sips of tea. “You have an affinity for magic and the blood of an Asgardian in you. That doesn’t just happen every day. There needs to be precautions set in place to make sure nothing bad happens.” I nod numbly and stare out at the room again. It’s like everything in his quarters has their own set of eyes they’re watching me through.

“And not telling me about my mom was a precaution?” I wonder sarcastically and lock my eyes back onto the crystal ball from earlier.

“Not letting you be influenced by your parents in any way was the precaution.” Now I look back at him. “Your mother was an Asgardian warrior who fled from her home after committing war crimes against Odin.” I watch him a moment more to make sure Strange is telling me the truth. Once I know for sure that he is my head tilts down a bit to hide my very explicit disappointment.

“And my father?”

“Nothing,” Strange answers without even thinking about it first. “Your father is completely elusive. I have thousands of eyes out there, probing every moment they can but we don’t have a single thing on him. No name. No family except you and your mother. There isn’t even a record of him at Kamer Taj.” I take in the information far slower than it comes, trying to comprehend what exactly he’s saying. The only proof of my father is me. There isn’t even a way to trace his path at the center for all magic, at least in this world.

“So you’re scared that I am them,” I claim under my breath, analyzing our conversation. “Either that or that I will become them.” Without any warning, Strange places his gloved hand on top of my own in a comforting way I have never witnessed from him before. His eyes have softened to reveal something besides the cold stone irises I have seen for the past weeks.

“I’m afraid that you will think you are them,” he declares to me. “Y/N, you are your own person. You weren’t born to be your parents and mirror their actions. None of us are born with a set destiny. All we have are possibilities, and you are young and have an abundant amount of choices you can make. Ones that can lead you down a good path, and ones that can lead you down the path you’re afraid of.” I stare straight at him for a couple numb seconds and he stares right back at me with undeniable confidence in what he just said.

There are so many words in my throat I wish would just spill out. Apologies and thank you’s and truths I’ve been afraid to admit. They’re all caged into my mouth though by a barbwire fence made of my own guilt. Steven seems to be waiting for it to all spill out too. He watches me patiently, as though he’s trying to make sure he was right.

Knowing that I won’t be able to utter anything any time soon I just nod and avert my eyes from his own. Strange pulls his gloved hand away from my and picks up his tea.

“I’m glad we could talk.” I nod again. “Maybe you should get to bed earlier than later so that you can feel better tomorrow.” Another nod and then I stand up. Steven watches as I cross the room, hopefully not catching how my eyes dart over to the crystal ball on the shelf.

“Goodnight Strange,” I mumble as I open the door.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

I patter across the floor in the early afternoon. The sun is high and has already managed to melt a majority of the snow on the ground. The orange glow bounces across the floorboard, making a rolling ocean of color in the wood. My feet stick to the ground with every step I make.

The base is empty except for the rare agents who are still meandering around and Loki who is lounging on the couch and flipping through every channel on the tv. I roll my eyes and continue into the kitchen, pulling out a cup and the little apple juice we still have stored in the fridge. Sloppily I pour it in the cup, using my sweatshirt sleeve to wipe the juice that fell onto the counter.

“Feeling especially clumsy today magician?” Loki wonders snidely from the couch. I roll my eyes, ignoring him as best as I can and move to the window that looks out towards the city. The sight makes me smile a little. Memories of sitting in my favorite cafe only a few months ago come to mind and I grin contently. It seems unreal thinking back on it all. I was alone only a month ago, relaxing in my favorite local coffee shop, not knowing that the facade of that life of would be falling away only moments later to reveal what I have now.

Just like that day too my pleasant thoughts are interrupted by the flair of smoke and fire erupting from the skyline like a blooming flower in Spring. It takes me a moment to register it before stepping backward and towards the couch. Loki voices his discontent when I rip the remote out of his hand and switch to the news channel.

Automatically the words breaking news pop up on the giant screen. My heart plummets all the way to the other side of the earth when I see what is happening. Sorcerers harboring the marks of the dark world have begun attacking a science center in Manhattan. I watch, gaping at the explicit images flashing across the screen. My eyes get stuck on a scepter one of them is holding in her hands. It is surrounded by a thick blue aura that competes with the harsh glow of the fire. People scream and run around like a hoard of ants that has just been faced with a boot.

My horror is completely silent for at least five minutes though.

“Where’s the team,” I ask Loki blankly. He looks up from the screen, seemingly just as shocked as me.

“A meeting with some sort of politician.” I fall back a bit, barely able to catch myself. My fear becomes even heavier when I remember the slip Peter had for his AV club field trip.

I begin scratching at the clear bangle on my wrist, begging that I will be able to take it off. Whatever enchantment is on it though deflects my desperate fingers each and every time they get close to it. A low hiss escapes my throat when my fingernails accidentally dig into my skin, drawing blood.

“I need you to get this off of me,” I say suddenly, shoving my wrist in Loki’s face. He just stares at it blankly though before pushing it away.

“Sorry to disappoint but I’m just as inhibited as you, if not more,” he tells me. “I can’t even leave the compound without setting off their alarms.” I growl frustratedly and run a hand through my hair, trying to figure out a way to go about this.

I turn away from Loki and sprint down the hall and into the lab where I was once held. My hands throw different things around the room to find some sort of tech that will hopefully connect me to any of Avengers while they’re in the stupid, horribly timed meeting. I finally pick out the same glasses that Tony wears all the time and throw them on my face.

“Hello Y/N. How are you today?” Friday asks me politely.

“Friday I need you to try and get into contact with Mr.Stark.” I don’t bother answering her question and run back through the living room and down the stairs. My heart pounds through my rib cage, snapping bones right in half as I turn towards the garage.

“Mr.Stark seems to be in the middle of an important conference right now. I can try again later, however.” I groan while ripping a random pair of keys off of the wall. Right after clicking the button a sleek blue car lights up and I debate on switching out the keys for a moment before I realize I don’t have enough time. With a nervous sigh, I throw open the door of the car and slide in. The console lights up and Friday automatically moves from the glasses to the car so that I can throw them off of my face.

“Just have him call me as soon as he’s out,” I assert and glare at the wheel of the car, wishing I took drivers ed more seriously. “And drive the car if you can,” I add. The engine suddenly revs up and we shoot out of the garage. I buckle my seat belt and watch helplessly as Friday guides the car onto a street.

“What is our destination?” she asks.

“To the science center. The one where the bomb went off.” I shout and cling to the seat as Friday does a wild u-turn and begins driving towards the fire. While she does that I keep trying to tear off the bracelet, but Banner and Strange did an incredibly good job of making sure there was no way of me disconnecting from this article of jewelry unless I have their permission.

“Y/N, Mr. Stark seems to be trying to call. Shall I put him through?” I look up from the bangle and nod.

“Yes, yes, please.” In mere moments Tony’s face lights up over the wheel of the car. His features are stern.

“Hey kid,” he grumbles. “Mind telling me why you stole my favorite Audi?”

“Tony, I need you to listen to me,” I beg. “You all need to get down here as soon as possible. There’s an attack going on at a science center in Manhattan and I think Peter’s there and I don’t know if I can save anyone. I can’t get off the bracelet and-”

“Y/N, you need to calm down,” he reassures. I don’t know that I’m hyperventilating until he points it out, and I nod to show my understanding. “We will be there in an hour. Got it? You stay out of this fight though. You can’t protect yourself with the bracelet on.” I shake my head, disagreeing as quickly as I possibly can.

“No- no Tony. Peter’s there. I need to help Peter.” I see in Tony’s eyes how worried he is. It makes sense that he’d be frightened for the both of us. He’s basically taken us into his home, and I know that Tony’s afraid he’ll be risking Peter and I if I go into the fight as well.

“Kid,” he reasserts. “Stay out of it and stay safe.” I clench my jaw and drop my eyes to my hands. Within them is the thrumming of my magic, trapped and begging to be set free and fly. I nod as if I really understand what it’s saying. Maybe I do.

“I’m sorry Tony,” I whisper. “But I need to do something.”

“Y/N wai-” I push the image of him away before another word can escape his lips. My hands grab onto the wheel.

“Let me drive Friday,” I hiss. Without any sort of response, I’m in charge. My foot presses hard into the gas, and the car jolts forward suddenly. I swerve through traffic elegantly, my haste somehow making all my actions even more graceful. Soon enough I’ve gotten so close to the site of the incident. The billowing smoke of the bomb swirls upwards and into the sky. The amount cars on the street become so much that I can’t even keep driving. People honk their horns at each other angrily, wanting to escape as fast as possible.

I slide out of the car, carelessly leaving the door wide open with the keys stills inside. The moment I’m out I break into a sprint, having to push past people who are running in the opposite direction. My lungs burn but I ignore the sensation and keep persisting forward.

Finally, I reach the science center and gape at the image in front of me. The dark scepter, a powerful relic that has been hidden away in the New York Sanctum for years has been stabbed into the ground. Pulses of magic flow out of it charging this whole area up with raging energy.

I have to work hard to pull my eyes away from it and when I do I see a crowd of people evacuating the building, thinking that the attack is over. Something in the air tells me otherwise though, and when my eyes meet Peter’s my stomach twists up. My eyes dart up from his and I see one of them. A sorcerer holding his hands up to levitate a giant bomb that is far too unstable. The moment he lets it go I sprint forward.

“PETER!” I scream for him. Concentrating all of the power that I can I push my energy out of me and towards him. The blue light wraps itself around the whole group of people, protecting them from the bomb that will hit the ground in only a few moments. My legs crumble beneath me, unable to pump myself forward anymore. A string of blue light continues to slither out of my body to protect Peter, who pounds against the wall of light. My muffled name escapes his throat in raw cries. I smile at him, letting my eyes close and ignoring the incoming bomb that is right above me.

It hits, and I feel myself being torn apart by it. My body warps wildly, but my eyes stay closed peacefully as though I’m in some sort of slumber. Promises and screams swirl around my head like a tornado of emotion.

Then it’s gone and I’m still on the ground in New York. My body is still weak, but it feels new like I’m a newborn child who has yet to be ruined by the world around me. Smoldering fire surrounds my feeble body that can’t even move. My lips are dry and my body aching from the heat that can’t touch me completely. I swallow down the spit and blood that has collected in my throat while rubbing haphazardly at the blood leaking from my nose. Soot has sprinkled all over my body, covering me in ash.

Deep within my mind, I can still hear something calling for me. It asks me to look to the right side of my paralyzed body, and I comply. Mere inches from my face is the dark scepter still glowing with its untamed power.

I gulp, knowing what this means. Knowing what having the dark scepter call for me means, and it is not good. Despite the battle in my head though I lift my fingers to the weapon hesitantly, accepting that this needs to happen so that I can stop the sorcerers who have been tempted by the dark dimension. I take one more breath, enjoying the feeling of this purity one more second before dropping my hand onto the metal.

Abruptly, a surge of power electrifies my body, waking up every nerve in my body with energy, splintering through my bones, and cracking open my soul itself. I scream out, shaking the ground beneath me. My back arches off of the ground in pain. The smoke around me is replaced with a thick blue steam, and the ashes turn to a thick tar that is slick on my skin. It slides through the holes of my charred sweater, lighting up my body and coating it in the pitch black substance. The fire slides down toward my wrist and wraps around the bangle, making it turn to air.

I gasp one more time as my back falls back to the ground. After taking a breath my body pushes itself upwards with ease and my legs support my weight as I step through the steam. The hot crater extends all the way to the edge of the wall and back to where Stark’s car is. Everyone, even the sorcerers, gape at me, shocked by the fact I’ve survived and how the relic they had to keep in the ground called to me, giving me the destiny Strange said I didn’t have.

It has given me a legacy as well, and that is something to fear much more than any force on this Earth. I have been given a destiny of darkness, and what will be left in my wake, my legacy is death.


	15. Part Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that my posting has been super inconsistent. With finals coming up I haven't really been focusing on this story as much as I've wanted to. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter though and I'll work to get as many up this weekend as I can.

The world remains in silent anticipation as I step out of the rubble of what could’ve very well been my tomb and approach the sorcerers. Everyone knows the face of the mysterious sorceress now. As for my name… I doubt it will be long before people have figured out my name is Y/N, and then my world will completely shift on its axis.

I can’t allow myself to think of that now though. Right now I need to direct all of my energy to this fight and the nervous sorcerers in front of me. They hold on tight to their relics and weapons. Ones that I have never seen before. Each of them looks to the others to make sure fighting me is the right choice. Finally, they all look a the man towards the middle, who has the bottom half of his face covered to hide his identity. All he has to do is nod and they’ve all switched to a defensive position.

My heart rate immediately picks up. They all have something I don’t have with the dark scepter. Experience. I don’t even know how to properly hold it to make sure I’m in the right position for a fight.

Right when I think it the same bodiless voice breaks through my thoughts and guides me. Almost like I’ve wielded it a million times before, I swing the scepter around my body and I’ fascinated for a moment by how similar it is to my needle in the way it leaves a trail of blue light in its wake. Words that I can’t even comprehend spill past my lips in a voice that doesn’t even sound like my own. It mirrors the bodiless one in my head that lacks any sort of raspiness or uniqueness. It is just monotone and simple. The finely detailed circle on the end lights up with the blue light completely and the connection between me and the relic happens right away.

I expect all of them to attack me at once but only one sorcerer comes at a time. Her sword swings down at me and I follow the scepter’s directions and block her attack effortlessly and sliding below her blade. Once I’m behind her I swing the dark scepter backward, slamming it into her back and knocking the women onto her knees. She groans at the wind being knocked out of her lungs.

Again I swing the scepter around, hitting her temple with the rounded part of the weapon, consequently knocking her out. After her, another sorcerer comes to me, two daggers in his hands. I move the scepter in both of hands. As quickly as possible I knock the blades away from and moving to hit the bottom of his chin. Suddenly he drops though and kicks my legs out from under me. I topple over and moan when my head slams against the ground.

My eyes widen when I see that his weapons have tripled in size. He aims for my neck and I barely manage to raise the dark scepter before the now swords chop of my head. Blue sparks fly away from our weapons on contact. I wince as he keeps pushing his weapons down towards my head.

“What a disappointment,” he smiles to me and I suddenly recognize him as the hunter who came for me first and started this whole mess. I smirk at him and shrug from the ground. He raises an eyebrow at how easily I seemed to have given up. Without any warning I drive my knee into his groin, imitating our very first fight.

“My bad,” I chuckle while grabbing his hair and slamming his head into the ground next to me. He becomes limp the moment his head smacks against the pavement and goes unconscious. I stand up easily, using the scepter as support. It hums against my fingertips supportively and grin at it and then at the other sorcerers.

“Well?” I wonder cockily. “Is anybody else going or have you decided it’s finally time for you Criss Angel impersonators to call it a day?” At the insult, both the guy and the girl step forward and I realize I may have bitten off more than I can chew when the girl drops a metal whip from her hand that sparkles with black magic. The man, on the other hand, reveals a needle much like my own that is produced from a golden bracelet shaped like a snake… just like mine.

The air in my lungs is sucked away as I look into his eyes, seeing that they are identical to mine. Seeing the opportunity the sorceress snaps her whip and right where the tip hits the ground there is the angry pop of a bomb. I jump a bit at the suddenness of her action and back away slowly to debate on what to do. My eyes flash towards the force field of my own life force surrounding the whole AV club and Peter whose eyes are locked on my own.

I look back at the two sorcerers and have subtle smiles on their faces to show that they know what my next move will be, but the thing is I’m planning on it. In one swift move, I take I few fast steps forward before jumping in the ground just in time to blown by the cracking bomb of the sorceress’s whip. I’m thrown back at least a hundred feet and roll onto the ground. The harsh pavement cuts through my skin but I ignore it and crawl the rest of the way into the force field.

The moment I’m inside Peter pulls me into him and I relish the feeling of his arms around me after the morning I’ve had. I sigh into the crook of his neck before looking up and seeing the stunned eyes of the whole AV club, including Ned.

“Woah,” he smiles down at me. I separate from Peter and look all around us to figure out a safe escape. “Can I hold that?” Ned asks me suddenly. I look away from the streets still crowded with hundreds of cars and back at him. My eyes narrow.

“No,” I say simply and go back to looking for a good route. Abruptly the whip snaps against the shield and fire wrap around the whole sphere. People scream out of fear and only Ned, Peter, and MJ look composed enough to listen to me.

“What are we going to do?” Michelle asks me, clinging to her usual book bag. I look up at her wide, hopeful eyes and down at the ground. I’m at a complete loss, which is completely undesirable at a moment like this. I’ve never had to deal with not knowing what to do, and it was all because of my father’s most important rule. Only worry about keeping myself safe. Everyone else is just collateral damage.

These people aren’t collateral damage though. They’re desperate humans who are looking to me for the answers and for the first time in a while I don’t have the answers.

“I can’t hold them both off for long,” I claim, keeping my head down. “You all will need to run like hell.” Everyone takes a moment to nod, their trust in me quickly deteriorating after they saw how little confidence I had about the situation.

Peter places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, drawing my eyes up to him. “You don’t need to do this alone,” he whispers to me and the other’s, thinking it’s some sort of teen romance thing, pull their attention away from us.

“Peter,” I shake my head and push a hand into his hairline. “I can’t let you fight them with me.” He smiles and presses his lips against my cheek kindly, making me melt a bit.

“This is my decision,” he murmurs into my ear, his hot breath tickling my hairline. I sigh and drop my head into his chest while shaking my head. There’s no way I can change his decision. I’ve found that once Peter is set on an idea it doesn’t go away too easily and it’s far better just to go through with it.

“We do this together,” I confirm back to him and I can feel his glowing smile on my cheekbone. “You go out with them and get on your suit while I distract them for now.” Peter nods excitedly, making me chuckle.

I close my eyes for a moment, warping the energy around us so the side facing away from the sorcerers forms a tail with an exit at the end. When I know it is safe for them to escape I gesture for all of my peers to rush out before sinking back through the force field myself. The moment I’m free the whip cracks right next to me and I’m glad that I had the good sense to put up a simple golden shield.

The smoke wraps around me, stinging my lungs and hiding me from their eyes so I can slip away. I roll to the side and sprint behind them. Ancient words spill over my cracked lips and the dark scepter lights up, attracting the attention of the two sorcerers. They both twirl around and look at me as I create intricate designs with the relic.

Finishing the move, I hit the end of the scepter on the ashen ground. A wave of magic shoots out of me, highlighting every building and car and speck of dust in the immediate area, making it seem like we’re standing amidst the stars.

“You know, I’m really sick of you guys bugging me,” I quirk my head to the side. While the sorceress scowls a bit I can see the man’s eyes brighten and the sight of it makes me feel sick. I swallow down the bile that rose up in my throat. “Mind letting me know why?” They both consider me for a moment.

“Our master wants to be sure that you’re ready,” the man says in a voice that is far too familiar for my comfort. I clench my jaw and look to the sky, hoping and praying that Peter will swoop in now.

“And your Master is Dormammu, right?” They both nod in confirmation. “Why does he want to know if I’m ready?” The woman is automatically more reticent, and looks to what I presume to be her leader by now to see what he says. His assertive eyes stay on me like a vulture stalking its prey.

“Dormammu can’t begin his ascension until he knows your ready, Y/N.” My name on his tongue is the only confirmation I need to make me choke on the very air in my lungs. I can’t stop my hands from going limp at my side so that the dark scepter is barely hanging off the tips of my fingers. A high pitched sigh escapes my throat and I realize that tears are welling up in my eyes, making them sting.

“No,” I whisper. The man only smiles and pulls down the cloth cover over half of his face. The world goes still as I look straight at the sorcerer, my father, who disappeared over five years ago. Every nerve in my body is telling me to run. They sting me in an attempt to wake my mind, creating a fire inside of my body. Everything within me lights up, making my insides raw and sore but on the outside, I am still. My fingers are still, my body doesn’t tense, and my eyes sure as hell don’t blink. I can’t risk losing sight of him again.

“You have no idea how nice it is to see you again sweetheart,” he gives me a saccharine grin that makes me want to keel over.

Lucky for me though, Peter, or Spider-Man, swings in overhead and lands right next to me. His mechanical eyes narrow at the two sorcerers. Since I’m so close to him I can hear the sound of Karen’s voice inside of the mask. She tells him the name of the woman, but can’t come up with anything for my father. Peter notices that as well and quickly asks under his breath. Much to my surprise, the two sorcerers let him as if it is enjoyable for them to watch.

“What’s the plan?” he wonders to me finally. I keep my eyes on my father.

“You take the guy. I can handle the girl,” I assert to Peter.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “I can probably disarm her easier without getting too close.” I shake my head and swing my scepter around, cutting through the glowing ash. The woman and my father nod at each other before beginning to sprint forward.

“I can take the girl,” I reaffirm and run towards her as well. Behind me I can hear the faint sound of Peter’s web shooters as he begins to fight my dad. Me and the girl keep our distance from each other though, doing purely defensive moves. I can suddenly tell that she’s holding back and in a fit of frustration and slam the circle of my relic on the ground, creating a shockwave that throws the sorceress off her feet. She topples over and hits her head on the ground. A puff of blue ash surrounds her body.

Instead of the move inhibiting her though she just gets angry. The sorceress cracks her whip abruptly and I barely dodge the explosion. Just like she was, I’m thrown off the ground and fly backward. My back slams into the corner of the building and I groan helplessly. My eyes begin to subconsciously search for Peter and my father but the only thing I can find is a blurry image of Spider-Man chasing the man through the air.

Knowing I won’t be getting any help I make a weak attempt to reach for the scepter but the woman kicks it away with her leather boots. I cry out when she decides the next thing to kick with her metal-toed shoes is my back. A single tear falls out of my eye and I can feel it make a straight line in the cakey soot that still covers my face.

All of the sudden the sorceress leans over and wraps her whip around my neck. I immediately choke at the pressure as she pulls me up. My elbows make an attempt to fly back and towards her gut but she doesn’t even flinch at my weak attacks. I shake in her strong arms, silently wishing that Peter doesn’t come back right now and sees this.

“Please,” I croak, “you can’t do this. Please.” She only chuckles and tightens the whip around my neck. Black spots begin to appear in my eyes, dimming all the light around me. Unconsciousness creeps up on me, laughing menacingly as it slithers through my mind.

“I can and I will,” she mumbles right into my ear. “We had such high hopes for you Y/N. You were going to be our savior, but now it would seem that the zelics must find a new prophet.”

“No,” I cough. “You can stop this,” I tell her despite the fact that I’m about to fall asleep.

“I don’t want to stop this. That means the only way you’re getting out of here alive is if you kill me. A life for a life. Yours for mine. If you haven’t figured that out by now then you were never meant to be our savior,” she hisses. I shake my head wildly, feeling the burn of the rope around my neck.

“I don’t want to kill you,” I cry to her. Even more tears spill down my cheeks now. She’s right. The only way out of this is if I kill her. I have the perfect chance right now. My needle slowly begins to travel across the bottom of my arm and towards the sorceress. I bawl again, this time loud enough to shake the core of our planet.

“Then choke.” Knowing that I need to do it before I lose consciousness I shove my elbow back into her. The needle immediately extends all the way when it first splits open her skin, and I nearly hurl when I hear my weapon break right through her backbone with a sickening crack. She gasps into my ear. The last breath that exits her body makes me sob brokenly. The woman’s body becomes limp against me before her arms fall away from the whip, releasing my windpipe so I can breathe again.

I still choke on the air that suddenly seems too toxic though. The needle slides out of her and she falls to the ground, dead. Her blood still coats my weapon and as it slides back into the golden bangle it is smeared against the skin of my forearm. Finally, I purge the last two meals I had from my body, leaving me completely empty and aching. My entire body shakes as I repulsively back away from my puke so that I can’t smell or look at it.

Instead of feeling better though I break again at the sight of the sorceress’s glassy eyes staring up at me in eternal shock. My breathing becomes choppy as I stare down at her. Everything becomes silent and I can’t even make a sound as horrified tears drip from my eyes. Only when I hear dozens of car doors slam shut do I escape my trance.

Salty water still streams down my face as I turn towards the fifty cops who all stand in a circle around me with their guns raised fearfully. I’m not even frightened as I raise my hands above my head defeatedly. Every pistol stays on me as one brave police officer steps up to me pulls my hands down, aggressively shoving on the handcuffs. People resurface from hiding to watch as I’m shoved into a cop car. Some angry words are spewed at me but for the most part, people watch in silent awe as I’m driven away from the scene of the crime, still crying quietly.

My eyes only wander once, and the moment I look up I see Peter, mask held limply in his hand while he stands at the edge of the building. His eyes only carry worry, but I know what they will show. Peter will find out I murdered someone and he will see me for all I am. For all I have hidden and the image of his eyes filling with that disappointment is enough to make me cast my head downward so I can let out one lonely, broken, quiet whimper.


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am really sorry about this........

I sit at a large metal table. My reflection stares up at me, placid and indifferent to the situation we’re in right now. At least that’s what it seems like. On the inside, I’m in overdrive though. I was in the car for hours. By the time they brought me all the way to a compound in the middle of Washington D.C., the sun had begun to set dramatically. 

I groan and drop my head to the table with a thump. My purely pointless handcuffs clink against the table as if they’re trying to show disapproval towards my actions. Beyond the reflective glass behind me, I know there are people watching every move I make closely to decide on how to go about my interrogation. They’ve probably never had to deal with sorcerers, though you’d think they would realize simple metal cuffs won’t be enough to inhibit my powers.

“Hello,” my head perks up at the sound of a man’s voice. I watch closely a the interrogator, probably in his fifties, strolls across the room and sits across from me. He has a simple white button up with a casual grey tie on. He smiles at me awkwardly, obviously never having dealt with someone my age. I narrow my eyes at him.

“Well,” he mumbles and folds his hands on the table. “My name is Everett Ross. I work with the JCTC. Your name is?”

“So I’m here because you think I’m a terrorist?” I ask him accusingly, not bothering to answer his question. Mr. Ross seems a little shocked by the blatancy of the question for a mere moment, but he then returns the smile.

“Could you please tell me your name?” he wonders again, but this time there is a threatening edge to his voice. I scoff at him suddenly, not able to contain my frustration.

“Why don’t you look in the file, Mr. Ross,” I grin at him sarcastically. “I’m sure that has all of the basic information you need.” He glares right at me before picking up the pale yellow folder and turning to the middle. His index fingers follow the lines until he finds what he wanted.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he begins. “Your parents’ names are James and Lilian. Your mother works at the science center that was attacked today and your father works in engineering. It isn’t specified where” Ross looks up at me. “Do they know you’re enhanced?” I laugh again, though this time it isn’t out of anger.

“Enhanced?” I chuckle. “You mean like a mutant? Nonono. I gained my abilities through training like most sorcerers.” He considers it for a moment and messes with an earpiece he has tried to hide from me.

“Like Strange?” he wonders and I nod. “Look Y/N, I will be honest with you as long as you’re honest with me. So-”

“Tell me why I’m here then,” I interrupt. “I know there’s footage out there and I know it shows that I was defending myself and those people.” Ross sighs at my stubborn nature abruptly.

“Just as it is my job to handle terrorism I also have to handle individuals such as yourself.” He flips through the file again. “Believe it or not Y/N, I don’t see any sort of information on your abilities mentioned in your files and that- that is a big problem.” I slump into my seat a bit, the cuffs straining against my wrists.

“So you’re saying that since my powers are undocumented, I am warranted for arrest,” I reaffirm. “Wow, this-this is absolutely golden. I protect the citizens of New York in an actual terrorist situation and I’m the one who is arrested? And where are the actual sorcerers who attacked the science center,” I hiss at him. Ross stays composed though.

“They are in the sublevels of this compound,” he assures me. “They will not be getting out anytime soon.” I laugh and drop my head into my hands. Right when I think everything may just be sort of okay, the world literally drops a bomb on me and throws me into the worst situation possible. Makes sense.

“Did you get all of them?” I ask him in a low whisper.

“We managed to get the two who were unconscious at the center. One escaped and the woman-,” he stops mid-sentence. “The woman was long dead when we found her.” I choke down the tears that suddenly began accumulating in my eyes and nod to show I understand. Ross’s eyes soften a bit.

“We understand you saved many people today,” he murmurs reassuringly, “but my superiors see you as a dangerous individual and therefore we will be keeping you here until further notice.”

The moment he finishes his sentence a woman bursts in. He blond hair is tied up in a tight bun that gives me a headache just looking at it. Her eyes are wide with what I presume to be surprise and they linger on me before turning to Mr. Ross.

“I’m sorry sir but-”

“You know you can’t just barge in on an interrogation,” he groans and turns around, stiffening when he sees the intensity in her eyes.

“Someone is here to pick her up,” she whispers as if it is some sort of top secret thing. I listen closely to see if she says anything more but she leaves a space for Everett to speak. He just shakes his head and looks back at his file.

“No one can just pick her up.”

“It’s Tony Stark,” she bursts all of the sudden. Both Ross and I look at each other, and then up at her.

“What?” he mumbles. The woman shrugs at him, seemingly just as confused. A not so subtle smirk spread across my lips and I lift my hands to Ross. He looks down at them, and then up at me. I can tell that he’s wondering why a member of the Avengers would be coming to pick me up but I just tilt my head to the side.

“I think that means I’m free to go,” I beam. Ross sucks in a deep breath before turning towards the doorway.

“Un-cuff her,” he says before turning back to me. “I’ll be escorting you outside.” I nod quickly at the compromise and wait for the guard to unlock the cuffs. They slip off my arms and I rub subconsciously at my wrists, feeling the lack of weight. I stand and walk out of the door, right on Ross’s tail. People stare at me to try and understand what is happening. My eyes stay averted from there’s though and I travel confidently to the first level of the building and step out into the cooling air.

Immediately, I’m bombarded by the flash of cameras all documenting me. It only takes a second for my attention to be pulled away from them and to a crowd of a little more than one hundred protestors standing in front of the building. They cling to their large signs, and I’m so disoriented by the sight that I don’t see what they say.

“Y/N!” I hear people shout for me. My eyes dance across all of the faces until I land on MJ’s and Vera’s. Without Ross’s permission, I sprint towards them. They both take me into their arms once I reach them, ignoring the police line that had to be set up as a precaution.

“What are you all doing here?” I wonder to the both of them. “Are they protesting against me?” I feel my heart ache a bit as I search through the hoard of people. Some of them see me, but their faces don’t show anger. In fact, they seem excited and chant their mantra louder.

“Actually, we’re doing the opposite,” Vera laughs. I narrow my eyes curiously, showing them that I don’t understand.

“We’re protesting for your liberation,” Michelle tells me happily, and for the very first time, I see her use her biggest smile on me, which is pretty huge. “Everyone you saved earlier got together and then others joined because they saw all the videos of you. People from Midtown mainly.” Once again I look up at the posters and chuckle, too happy to understand what I’m feeling. On each one are messily written words calling for my freedom. My eyes land on one particularly well done one that is lifted high above the rest.

“‘Uncage the bluebird,’?” I ask them curiously. Vera automatically pulls out her phone and shoves it in my face. On the screen is a gif of me using the dark scepter to draw a large set of intricate blue wings around me. I shake my head, not really believing what I’m seeing. My index finger drops to the screen, pausing the video so that I can look at the sudden pulse of light that comes from my “wings” flapping.

“You’re a hero,” Michelle tells me, and suddenly my mood drops. Right when she said that word the image of the dead sorceress’s flashed through my mind, my reflection stuck in the pupils of her eyes. My smile becomes weaker and I’m glad when Ross beckons for me to follow him to Stark’s car. I shout goodbye to my two friends and move down the cleared sidewalk that leads to a glimmering car.

The window rolls down to reveal Stark. He watches as I trek towards him with Ross extremely close to make sure I don’t run away. Even if I wanted to I don’t think I could though. I feel like If I were to do anything too taxing at the moment I’d hurl right onto the pavement. Demurely, I open the car door and step in, leaving Ross confused about the familiarity between Tony and I.

“So I assume you know each other,” Ross says to Stark a little sternly. Tony shrugs and looks at me.

“She’s an Avenger,” he tells Ross while still keeping his eyes on me. I nod slowly, figuring I should just keep up what I hope is a lie. When I turn around Mr. Ross is stunned and can’t tear his eyes away from me.

“Well, I guess that means we’ll be meeting again,” he offers me a smile. I grin smugly at him.

“Hopefully I won’t be in chains the next time,” I respond without hesitation. “Goodbye, Mr. Ross.” I offer him one last smile before Tony steps on the gas and we speed away from the compound.

The large majority of the car ride out of D.C. is silent. I keep my head down as Tony tries to get back to the base as soon as possible so there isn’t any talking that needs to be done. When we’re only a few miles out though we get stuck behind dozens of cars. Lights belonging to police cars flash in the distance. The snow lights up shades of blue and red, hypnotizing me.

“You wouldn’t have gotten there in time,” I mumble to Tony. His head turns away from the road and who looks at me. Through the strand of hair covering my eyes I see him and much to my surprise he doesn’t look angry or frustrated. Tony actually looks sympathetic.

“I know kid,” he smiles and places a stiff, awkward hand on my back. “I’m sorry.” Now I look up at him to see if he really means it. I see the strain in his features that is a usual sure sign that he’s telling the truth. Though this truth is definitely hidden deep under a layer of his casual behavior. Seeing the extreme change in his general attitude gives me enough courage to open up about what happened earlier.

“Tony,” I whimper, ignoring the voice in my head that tells me to keep quiet. “I killed her. I murdered someone today.” Although saying it outloud is a little freeing I still feel the heavy weight of guilt hanging over me. His hand quickly becomes less board like on my shoulder and loosens.

“Kid,” he begins to defend me, “you didn’t have a choice today. She made it into a life or death situation for you Y/N.” I shake my head and drop it into my hands. It should be reassuring that he thinks I did the right thing today but it’s so much more deterring then we both would have thought. My palms push into my eye sockets as if I can keep the tears locked away.

“You don’t get it, Tony,” I cry. “Have you ever held someone as they died? It doesn’t matter if they’re your enemy or the person you love. Just anyone. I killed that woman and I could feel her die against me. The last noise she made was heard by me. I was the last person who felt her with a heart still pumping blood in her chest. I took her life directly. I killed her, my own needle inside that sorceress but I couldn’t even look in her damn eyes until she was dead, and even then it was- ruining Tony. I felt like everything I am died with her.”

“Y/N-” Tony tries to bud in but I look up at him the moment he utters my name.

“That isn’t even the worst part Tony,” I bawl. “I may not have had another choice at the moment but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have made a better one only minutes before. Peter-” I choke on his name, suddenly hating the sound of it on my lips. “Peter said he could handle her, and I know, I am positive that if I had just listened and fought the man none of this would have happened. That woman wouldn’t be dead, I wouldn’t have been arrested, and I would not be crying right now.”

Suddenly, Tony pulls me into his arms. I’m shocked at first but seconds later I’m sobbing into his shirt, clinging to him even when the cars behind us start to honk their horns when everyone is finally moving forward. Tony pets the top of my head, still I little clumsy with his movements but willing to comfort me as much as possible right now.

“Let’s get you home,” he says and separates from my body that still shakes a bit. I sigh and nod, rubbing my eyes to show I’m feeling better now. As we coast the last couple miles to the base I stare out the window, the blur of red and blue lights still sparkling on the snow. Reluctantly, I let Peter’s name slip from my mouth so quietly that Tony can’t even hear me from a few feet away.

The sound of it still doesn’t sound right on my tongue after the seventh time of chanting it below my breath. I moan tiredly and drop my head into the car window. My hot breath curls upwards, creating a thick layer of condensation against the cold window.

“Hey Tony,” I murmur to him, earning only a hum in response. “You mind if I look at a recording of the fight? Just the beginning?” He peeks at me worriedly before tapping the dashboard of his car. A thin hologram projects in front of me suddenly and I watch intently as the video of the fight plays. Finally, I get to the part I was waiting for and watch the man pull the mask off his face but somehow, someway, it isn’t my dad.

I go back a few seconds, thinking I must be hallucinating but after the second time I realize that this is the real video, not some distorted daydream. My heart stops as I gape at the man. I thought- I could’ve sworn. A tear drips from my eye and down onto my leg. I shake my head and push a hand through my hair.

He must’ve done some sort of illusion. That is the only possible explanation. There’s no possible way that I imagined the eyes of my father throughout that whole fight. I doubt it was because of the dark scepter. I’ve read tons on it and not once do any of my book mention imagining you father’s face on another man. And the needle, the needle was a sure sign. Not to mention his voice.

I clench my jaw and swipe at the video, sending it away. Again, I drop my head against the window. If he can hide that easily my father could be anywhere, hunting me… haunting me.

 

 

I lay unmoving on the top of my bed. Darkness has made its way into my lonely quarters with ease. It wraps me up in it, coaxing away the fear of what I’ve decided must happen next. The lump in my throat multiplies but instead of fighting the feeling, I settle into it, drowning it the wild waves of the emotions inside of me right now so that I can just be numb. That’s probably the best way to go about this.

“Y/N,” Peter whispers and knocks on my window. I turn away from my window slowly, fearing that if I look him in his eyes I may not be able to go through with this. We make eye contact and I see all of the fear stored up in his eyes from the entire day. I wonder if he can see the numbness burrowed deep in my eyes as well.

Shakily, I stand from my bed and press the button on my remote so Peter can come in. The moment it is wide enough for him to enter her bursts through and pulls me into him. Hesitantly, I return the gesture. A powerful voice in my head tells me not to let myself to get drawn into my like always, so I separate only moments after we just began hugging. A thick line of goosebumps rolls down my back when I see the look in his chocolate brown eyes darkened by the night.

“We need to talk,” I whisper, ignoring the sound of my heart shattering against the cold wood beneath our feet. Peter stares at me, the fear spreading like wildfire through his whole body. I can barely watch as he tenses a bit. I bit my lip and beckon him to the edge of my bed with me. We both sit down on the soft, warm surface that completely contrasts what I will be doing to Peter within the next five minutes.

“Y/N?” he whispers and I feel his breath ghost across my left ear just like the last breath of the sorceress and the courage to suddenly get this over with explodes inside of me.

“We need to break up,” I exhale. My eyes don’t dare meet Peter’s out of fear of what I will see. I cling to the edge of my bed because I know that now, after what I’ve said, I’m not allowed to find solace in Peter anymore. I don’t deserve it. Not now and probably not ever.

“What?” Peter can barely get the word out. I grind my teeth together, wishing I didn’t have to say it again. Wishing that I didn’t say it in the first place. There is still a sliver of hope in me that keeps screaming I can take it back. It says he will still see me the same even when he realizes what I’ve done. I can just see it though. I can see the disappointment settling in Peter’s sweet brown irises and I don’t think I could stand him looking at me with those kinds of eyes.

“We need to break up.” I do my best to get out the words despite my tight throat. “It’s better that way.” Peter’s hand pushes up the bottom of my chin so that I’m staring right into his desperate eyes.

“Is this really what you want,” he wonders softly. I pull my face from his hand with a quick jerk while still maintaining eye contact.

“I want to be alone,” I assert to him.

“You say that but your eyes are telling me a different story,” Peter claims and I know he’s telling me the truth. I run a hand through my hair, trying to figure out what I need to do. This needs to happen. I know it does but how I’m going to do it now is cloudy. Finally, I turn back towards him quickly, shrugging my shoulders along the way.

“I love you,” I blurt, not considering the consequences of admitting this now of all times. Peter furrows his brows at me.

“You’re breaking up with me because you love me?” he asks, very blatantly confused by my confession and the terrible, terrible timing. I suck in a sharp breathe and let it out. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, not considering how I wanted to be as emotionless as possible.

“I’m breaking up with you because I’m afraid of being in love with you Peter,” I tell him through blurred vision. “Don’t you get that?” Peter suddenly places a hand on my cheek and as much as I want to pull away I savor the feeling of his skin on my own. His eyes stare adoringly into mine as he leans forward and places his forehead against my own.

“You don’t have to be afraid Y/N,” he mumbles. “I love you too,” Peter admits. Surprising the both of us I push away from him, nearly falling off of my bed and alerting everyone that something is going on in my room. Peter watches wide-eyed as I begin to fume with anger.

“No, you don’t,” I accuse with a pointed finger. Peter opens his mouth to dispute but I growl at him before he can. “No! Shut up and let me finish.” I hate myself for how I just lashed out at him but I need to finish this. “You don’t love me. Peter, you love this girl, this goddess who you’ve set on a pedestal. You love this hero who you think I am. I’m not a hero though. Wanna know why?” By now I’m crying and Peter is just staring back at me with hollow eyes. “I killed a woman today. I felt her die against me. That takes away a piece of your soul Peter. It ruins you until you don’t even know who you are anymore. It wears down on you until you’re just a shell full of the whispers that were once memories.”

I pant, catching my breath. My jaw clenches as I brush stray hairs out of my face. Peter’s eyes stay on me, unblinking as I compose myself so that I can speak without shouting at him. My stomach churns as I stare up at him, tears leaking from eyes freely and uninhibited now. I bite my bottom lip and shake my head at him, praying silently that something in us will change suddenly.

“You don’t love me,” I finally admit to myself in a broken mumble. “Tell me I’m wrong.” Although it comes out as a final piece of malice I’m really begging for him to tell me I’m wrong. That he does love the parts of me that we both sometimes refuse to see. When we’ve been waiting for something to interrupt the silence for a couple minutes though I just bow my head, not motivated enough to keep it up anymore.

“Y/N,” he finally says but it’s too late now.

“Just go Peter.” He stands but he doesn’t walk back out the window. Peter steps in front of me, lifting his hand to my face. His skin doesn’t touch my own though, and I’m glad. “I want to be alone,” I reassert to him. Peter hesitantly drops his hand from where it once and hovered and takes one step back. Then another, and then more and more reluctant steps until he turns away from me and swings away with the help of his web shooters.

My body suddenly collapses forward onto the ground and I bawl so quietly that I can’t even hear the noise across my mind. I hug my own body trying to keep all of the pain of letting him go so suddenly in but it leaks through the seams until I’m surrounded by the bloody circle of my own broken heart.


	17. Part Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being gone for so long. I was on hiatus during the week of finals and into the summer but now that I'm back I'll be posting a lot more consistently! : )

I forgot how easy it is to feel numbed by the world. To feel like all of the nerve ending in your body have been seared to a crisp by the fire of choices that may not always be yours. That may be why I feel number than ever now. Because it was my choice, for the first time in a very long time, to burn the bridge between Peter and me, and I stood there with hot tears streaming down my face as the flames licked my skin. They didn’t wake me though. I wasn’t screaming in agony forever, which is what I sort of hoped would happen. No. I was just there, in the ruin. Silent, numb, and broken.

After the lonely and quiet weekend though I jumped right back into my schedule and went to school to distract myself from the past week despite knowing the barrage of people I would face. Now I’m here barely able to handle being in the same vicinity as Peter. Lucky enough though I’ve spent my whole life looking past people and if I could do it then I can do it now. Peter is a different situation though. He’s Peter, the boy I am in love with despite our break up and not even sparing him a glance hurts in ways I didn’t even think were possible.

Barely making it through Algebra I jump up from my spot and race out the door that leads to the already crowded halls. People stare at me as I make my way to pottery, shouting my name to get my attention and even snapping pictures of the so-called bluebird. One camera flashes in front of my face as a hand grabs onto my shoulder. Instead of fighting it I just stand still until they let go and keep walking down the hall.

“Y/N!” Vera screams for me. I sigh gratefully, knowing the parade of people will disperse when she starts shoving them away from me. She slides towards me quickly and grabs my shoulders to properly inspect me. Her eyes float caringly along the lines of my face and into my eyes. Vera frowns before letting me go.

“You shouldn’t let people just grab you like that Y/N,” she asserts while shaking her head. We stay side by side as we work our way through the school to get to class on time. People still murmur off to the side, but no one blatantly walks up to me asking questions while Vera is around. All around the school, alongside the symbols of the different heroes of New York, are neatly drawn blue wings. My eyes stay off of them, not wanting to accept the fact people have put me in the same sort of category as the Avengers.

“Something’s up,” Vera finally says with a hint of annoyance in her voice from having to try and initiate any sort of conversation. I gulp and look up at her.

“Can we talk in private?” I wonder. “It would be preferable to not have anything else floating through the halls about me.” Vera stares worriedly at me a moment before nodding and pushing open the doors. As soon as we step in the whole class becomes quiet and beams up at me like they expect some sort magic trick to happen any second. I huff and step behind the wall to the wedging table where no one has chosen to stay. Vera peeks around the corner suspiciously to make sure no one is eavesdropping.

“Okay,” she whispers before looking back at me. “What’s wrong?” I groan and rub at my eyes, already feeling the sting of tears in my eyes.

“I broke up with Peter,” I confess finally. My eyes look to hers for any sort of comfort but I only find confusion in her deep blue eyes. Vera cocks an eyebrow.

“That’s it?” she asks. I narrow my eyes, curious as to why there needs to be more of a reason. “Y/N I’ve literally dumped seven guys and that’s just from high school. It really isn’t that big of a deal.” I shake my head and run a stiff hand through my hair.

“No,” I murmur in disagreement. “You don’t get it, Vera.” She just rolls her eyes and yanks a clump of clay out of the bucket next to her.

“I feel like you’re overreacting Y/N. It’s just a dude.” I slam my hands on the table out of frustration. A pulse of reddened magic fizzles in the wood, making it smoke. Vera has to yank her hands away to keep them from getting burnt by my magic.

“What the hell Y/N,” she hisses. I let out a shocked sob and pull my hands into my chest.

“I love him,” I admit through bared teeth. “And I just don’t fucking know what’s wrong with me because I seem to be the only person who abandons the person they love more than anything. Is it- is it just me or are there others?” I grab onto clumps of hair so tight that if I were to pull a little harder it would rip out. Vera leans across the wedging table and places a soft, reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“You didn’t abandon him. You broke up with him Y/N.” I scoff and nod sarcastically despite the tears falling down my face.

“The last thing I might’ve well had said was stay away from me. Running just seems to be all I’m good at,” I chuckle emptily and rub at my temples.

“Hey, Y/N, you are an incredible person and I know that running away can’t be all-”

“But I am good at it,” I interrupt. “That’s what you’re saying, right Vera? That hey, you can do magic and shit pretty well but yeah, you are pretty good at running.” I clench my jaw and look up at her with shadowed eyes. “I thought he would say he loved me back, Vera. I thought Peter would hold me and disagree with every little cell he had in his body. I was wrong though and you know what confirms it? It’s that look in Peter’s eyes. That is enough to tell me I don’t deserve his love and I never, ever will.”

Red smoke still oozes from my hands and eyes. Vera and I’s eyes are locked on each other and I can tell she doesn’t have anything to say. Her mouth falls open like she’s finally found the right words, but then it closes up again to show that she really does think this is a hopeless case.

“Um,” a voice hums next to me. Both Vera and I turn simultaneously to see a freshman who I think is named Jaimy holding a brand new pen in his hand. “I realize this may not be a good time but do you think you could sign my notebook for me.” I stare blankly at him, not bothering to hide my surprise before I turn my face up to the ceiling and let out a soft, airless laugh.

“Really,” I laugh cruelly and shake my head. “Sorry, but the autograph booth isn’t open today.” I drop my backpack to the ground and push past the fan who is only a year younger than me. Dozens of eyes stay connected with me as I burst out of the classroom without asking first. Once I’m free of their idolizing eyes I groan and look down at my quaking fingers. The smoke stills pools inside of my palms before falling to the ground.

I shut my eyes tight and wrap my arms around my head to hide the tears that fall from my eyelashes. A broken whimper escapes my throat as I fall against our lockers with a bang. My knees are drawn up to my chest so that I can close myself into them.

“Y/N?” My crying stops when I hear Peter call my name from across the hall. I rub my eyes before looking up and making eye contact with him. His most common worried expression rises up in his face as he studies the puffy read splotches around my eyes. Even though I know he’s already seen the red magic drifting up from my hands I hide them in my pockets.

Without a word I stand up and turn away from him. My feet make soft pats on the hard floors while I rush away from Peter so he can’t see me anymore. Despite my inner pleas though I feel his webbing abruptly connect with my wrist and yank my hand out of my jacket’s pocket. I spin around with the momentum and look at him sadly. His eyes coast along the lines of my face, the adoring look he has always harbored for me slightly hidden by his own fear. I shake my head and stare at him through hooded eyes.

“I’m sorry Peter,” I mumble before disappearing from his sight and reappearing in the girls’ restroom. A small strand of webbing is still connected with my hand, making me feel even worse than before. I sob and rip it off. Not giving it a second though a throw it into the toilet angrily.

Only when the bell sounding the beginning of third-period sounds do I unlock the bathroom stall and walk out. A few people are still sprinting to their classes. Luckily they’re too worried about being late to see me wandering through the halls. At least I believe it’s lucky until I see Vera shoving Peter into the janitors’ workroom.

I furrow my brows and drift effortlessly towards the door. Letting my fear and curiosity get the best of me I press my ear against the door to listen.

“What the hell Vera?” Peter growls quietly. Vera only laughs in response.

“You know I could ask you the same thing, idiot.” I let out a silent sigh, glad that this isn’t what I thought it was. “Why did you and Y/N break up.” A grimace breaks through my straight expression, knowing that Peter won’t be able to say it.

“She said I didn’t love her,” he confesses after a few moments of hesitation. Realizing I may be here for a long time I sink to the floor, keeping my ear against the door so that I don’t miss one word.

“Don’t you though?” she asks. “Don’t you love Y/N?” Peter just laughs brokenly. I flinch when I feel his weight against the door.

“Not in the way she deserves.” I have to choke back some inhuman noise that rises in my throat so I don’t alert them to my presence.

“While I may agree,” Vera begins in her usual annoyed tone that makes me grin a bit, “I think that if you guys were to just, I don’t know talk or even have a minute conversation, you can fix your relationship.”

“Talk?” Peter spits suddenly and I can feel his body separate from the door. “Y/N can barely look at me let alone talk to me.” He pauses for a moment, obviously considering something. “Why do you care anyway?” he wonders and I linger on what she may say in these next few second.

“Because she’s my best friend,” her voice drags in the end, letting me know that she’s holding something back. “And- uh- she’s lost without you, Peter.” Vera finally whispers. “It’s like she’s this shell. Y/N just goes through the motions anymore, and although she might as well had been the same a week ago there’s something scary in her eyes. This frightening sort of passion that I’ve never seen from her before and I’m afraid it’s about him.”

“Him?” Peter asks and I pray to whoever may be listening that she doesn’t say it. Because I know that when Vera lets these next words leave her mouth it will become true. It has been in the back of my mind for the past few days. Since I fought him to be specific but if Vera were to say it that thought will suddenly be front and center in my mind like before, forcing me to remember my fear. My fear that anyone and I mean anyone, could be my father hiding behind a thick illusion. Someone stalking me like a vulture who hasn’t eaten for centuries.

“Her father.” At Vera’s voice, I break away from the wall with a low sigh. Just like I thought the image of him is in the front of my mind and like always it comes alive.

I feel his chilling breath on my neck as he leans over me, placing a stern hand on the back of my neck. My body freezes instinctively at his touch. “You know what you need to do honey.” I have to swallow back the bile that rises up in my throat when he calls me that. “The crystal ball,” he tells me and I suddenly understand.

“What will it tell me?” I wonder out loud, not fearing if Vera and Peter heard me.

“What you need to know if you want to leave me behind forever,” his voice penetrates every wall around me, tearing them down with little to no effort so that I’m left completely to his mercy. “My name.” My father’s hand slither’s down my arms and places my old sling ring into my palms that still leaks with harsh red smoke.

I nod and stand. In front of me, I lift my hands, waving one in a circle so that the portal into the Avenger’s base can open. A golden hoop appears in front of me and I step through, purposefully not listening to Peter’s begging even though my soul so desperately wants me to. 

Loki looks up from his usual spot on the couch and cocks an eyebrow at me.

“Where is everyone?” I ask quickly, not stopping once.

“They had to finish a meeting since it was cut short the last time,” he murmurs while curiously watching me. “I suppose school ended early since your home thi-” Before Loki can finish his sentence I wave my hand, making him fall into a sleep trance. As I continue down the hallway to Stephen’s room I feel like I’m in a trance myself but I’m not. I’m doing this on my own.

Ignoring the fact that there has to be some sort of spell on his door I shove down his door handle and shove it open. The room automatically shifts from the blue color to a frightening red that blinks on and off. I don’t stop even when the voice deep inside of me screams for me to stop. Instead, I wrap my hands around the cracked geode that has been perfectly carved into a sphere. It hums happily against my fingertips, thinking that it has finally succeeded in seducing me.

I turn around and step out of Strange’s crowded room. When I’m back in the living room though I come face to face with him and Tony, who both seem just as shocked as me though I have a feeling their confusion is due to what I have in my hands. I talk a defensive step back, eyes bolting around the base to see what my best escape route.

“Wow,” Tony murmurs, dropping his metal-clad hand so it isn’t pointed at me. “And you said she didn’t need the bracelet anymore.” Strange rolls his eyes and drops away from his defensive position as well. I don’t though.

“Kid,” he asserts, “give me the crystal ball.” Strange holds his hand out gently to me so that I know he isn’t being forceful with his words. I look down at the stone in my hands and back up at him.

“I’m sorry guys,” I apologize quietly as I raise my hand and summon the dark scepter to my hand. “I can’t give this up.” Both Tony and Strange narrow their eyes at me.

“Why?” Stark asks abruptly, but when I’m prepared to answer he continues. “Why do you feel this constant urge to always go behind our backs.” Now it’s my turn to be confused while I furrow my brows and shrug.

“What other time have a gone behind your back?” I interrogate defensively. Stark only laughs.

“You really didn’t think I wouldn’t notice that you hacked into the gift I gave you to look up information about your father?” My lips become tight and I close my eyes, doing my best to stifle the frustration and anger rising up inside of me. The tear that slips down my cheek though is enough to make everything in me overflow.

“I do it because you’ve had the chance to tell me.” I look pointedly at Strange. “You knew who my mother was for how long until you told me? Or wait you didn’t tell me. I had to figure it out from the fucking god of Mischief, who I hate. Both of you had the power to do something. To take tests and get any birth certificates that could possibly lead to me discovering my heritage but you did nothing,” I cry to them.

“You say that you’re afraid of me thinking I am my parents but I know I’m not.” My chest heaves dramatically as I attempt to get my words out. “I just want to know what I could’ve had, and doing it behind your back was the only way I could think of without getting turned away or hurt.”

“We aren’t going to hurt you Y/N,” Tony claims, but I only chuckle.

“Oh yeah?” I question. “What happens when I’m finally of age to take care of myself and live on my own? Or that I’m not this hero everyone says I am? What- what happens when you realize there is nothing left for me to learn from you so there isn’t any use of having me around anymore?” Strange’s eyes soften just as much Tony’s and he takes a hesitant step towards me.

“We aren’t your father either Y/N.” I scoff at this and shake my head, still holding the crystal ball close to my chest.

“Everyone,” I whisper weakly, “is my father. It’s postman and the flight attendant and the usher in the theater.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see both Vera and Peter sprint up the stairs. My eyes meet Peter’s in a millisecond. A sad, lonely smile spreads across my lips as I shrug and look back at Tony and Stephen. “It’s even my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Until the day I know his name, the name of the man who abused and neglected me for ten years of my life before abandoning me on my birthday because he did everything he needed to do, I will be scared of any and everyone who could be my father hiding behind a well-crafted illusion.”

Tony takes another hesitant step towards me and I allow the advancement. “You are a good kid,” he reassures softly. “You’re a hero Y/N.” I shake my head and chuckle.

“The dark scepter called out to me.” I raise it a little to prove a point. “Don’t you realize that that means? It means I’m tainted, and that is so undeniably true and no one can deny it. My mother is a runaway war criminal who went against her king and my father is the terrorist who tried blowing me up yesterday!” I bawl. In an attempt to calm myself down I slam my eyes shut and shake my head. The tears still find a way out though.

“My father ruined me,” I cry hopelessly. “He killed my mother and taught me to be this disgusting, untrusting, monstrous person. My father destined me for a life of hatred and loneliness when he abandoned me. I was stupid to think it could be any other way.”

“He didn’t destine you for that Y/N,” Peter cuts in. “Time and time again you have made your own independent decision to cut everyone out, but,” he steps towards me, “you can decide to let people back in. It’s up to you though. It will always be up to you.”

“We’ll let you do this if you want to Y/N,” Strange tells me. “We will let you go so you can hunt you father to the ends of the Earth and even the galaxy if that is what you want. This is your choice to make now and no one else. We won’t stand in your way.”

All of the sudden I let out a heavy, world-shaking sob that nearly throws me off of my feet. One by one I drop all of the magical items on me to the ground. First, I let my sling ring slip off. It lands on the wooden floors sharply, bouncing around and revealing the inside engraved with the circle I insistently drew when my father first gave it to me. Next, my hands release the dark scepter and when it lands I feel its hold over me disappear, letting me breathe my very first pure breath of air.

Finally, I look down at the crystal ball, studying the glowing gems inside that desire my presence. It tries to call me back to it. The magic within it hums against me like a reminder that this is the last way I can achieve closure. I look up from the stone and make eye contact with the vision of my father who stands across the room from me. I shake my head at him.

“No more,” I declare to my father and let go of the magical sphere. My eyes stay on his as I listen to the rock shatter on the ground, sending out shards that threaten to cut into my exposed ankles. He only smiles.

“There are other ways,” he tells me before the image of him disappears.

I gasp and crumple forward. Before my knees can hit the glass covered floor Tony catches me in his arms. I cry into his suit as he pulls me up to his level so that I can be held properly. Drool messily drips from my lamenting lips and onto his shirt but he just continues to coax my cries out of me gently by rubbing his hand against my back.

“I’m sorry,” I breath out sharply. “I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry that I did-” Suddenly a hand holds onto my own. I open my eyes, expecting to see Peter but instead I find Strange.

“We forgive you Y/N,” he grins. I let out another cry, knowing in my heart that I don’t deserve it yet I am so incredibly grateful for his words.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble again and drop my face into Tony’s shirt. “I’m so, so sorry.”


	18. Part Seventeen

I haven’t been home in so long and I don’t mean the dungeon in which I was raised. I’m talking about the city of Queens in general. Happy would drive me through the streets I used to walk past on my way to work but I’d hardly even call that a visit. Now I’m here though, hiding in the shadows the cold night provides, still a little wary of people following me after the whole science center incident. I need to do this though.

Little flurries of heavy snow drift down from the sky and land all around me. They mix with the old brown slush still lining the sidewalks until their pure white color has disappeared. I pull my jacket tighter around me, wishing I hadn’t snuck out in only Steve’s thin windbreaker he left hanging by the entrance. My head shakes in disapproval at my own actions. Obviously, I feel bad for just leaving out of the blue even when Tony, Stephen and I had a heart to heart. There’s someone that I hadn’t apologized to though and if I want things to get better, I need to get to Peter’s apartment complex.

Suddenly, I feel something brush against the side of my face. I tense up, allowing my magic to buzz through my fingers as preparation for a fight that may or may not happen. When I look down though I’m met with a crow that cocks its head at me and stares up with beady black eyes. I furrow my brows as it lets out a shriek. It flaps its wings again, demanding attention as I step around it.

I stop and turn around, watching it curiously. “What do you want?” I ask impatiently. Again, the crow flaps one of its wings and I suddenly realize who she is. I look around curiously, thinking that maybe this is some sort of mind trick but she squawks for my attention again and I lean down to her level slowly.

“Look Icarus,” I give her a nickname while gently lifting the bird’s wing to check on it. “I’d love to hang out but I have something to do.” Icarus tilts her head to the side again and flies up and onto my knee. I sigh and wrap my hands around her wings. Much to my surprise, she doesn’t struggle at all when I pick her up and turn her around so that Icarus’s beak is pointed right at my face.

“No,” I assert. Behind me, I hear something clatter on the ground and spin around quickly, more embarrassed that someone may have caught me talking to a bird rather than scared that another sorcerer found me somehow. No one is there though. I look Icarus right in the eye before groaning. She lets out another shrill shriek as I turn her away from me and carefully throw her into the air.

For a second she glides up and away but my victorious grin fades when she twists back around and lands on my shoulder. I look forward, defeated and not knowing what to do before just walking forward. Icarus perches happily and, to my joy, decides not to scream into my ear again.

We keep walking through Queens, ignoring the stares from frightened individuals who gawk at the crow that seems to be enjoying the warmth that erects from my body while snow still drops from the sky. Finally, I reach the alley that leads to Peter’s fire escape. Before I begin mounting the stairs that lead upward I glance around to make sure no one is watching and pull Icarus away from my body.

“Time for you to fly back home,” I tell Icarus while setting her down on the first level. She shakes her feathers and flaps her wings, heading off into the cold night much to my relief. I watch her for a moment before looking back at the fire escape. Had it not been for Cap’s training I may not have been able to pull myself up and onto the metal platform that was two feet above my head. Speaking of Steve, I should probably apologize for stealing his jacket too.

With a grunt, I stand up from the cold steel and begin climbing up the flights of stairs. They rattle below my feet, making me feel nauseous at the thought of them suddenly breaking. Before they can though I finally reach Peter’s window.

Inside I can see him typing away sullenly on his computer. He’s in his Midtown High sweatshirt that is loose around the collar from Peter pulling his headphones through his shirt so many times. As I lift my hand to the glass I hesitate for a moment, wondering if this is the right thing to do. This visit could always just make things worse between Peter and I. In fact, I haven’t even planned what to say to Peter when he opens his window. If he opens his window, actually. I pull my hand away from the window and look down at my feet.

Just as my body moves away from the window Icarus flies by quickly and lets out a shrill squawk, making Peter twists around. We meet each others’ eyes in only a second and while he stares in shock I only offer an awkward smile.

“Fuck you too Icarus,” I mumble under my breath so that it isn’t obvious to Peter. He stands from his desk chair and moves silently and quickly to the window, opening it without a moment of hesitation. Immediately a rush of hot air hits my face.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” I feel his familiar hands wrap around my wrists as he pulls me into his room. “It’s freezing outside,” he whispers as to not alert Aunt May of my presence. I beam at him a moment, thousands if not millions of words swirling through my mind like a hurricane.

“I’m sorry Peter,” I blurt quickly, knowing that if I don’t say it now I will never be able to get out the words I want Peter to hear. “I’m sorry for so, so much. What I did was cruel and unreasonable and I let my fear take control and split us apart.” Peter opens his mouth to say something but I place a hand on his, letting him know I have more I need to say. “I know Peter. I know that you said I don’t need to be afraid but the thing is, I’m only alive today because of my fear. I let it guide me when my father forced me into the woods or when I’d have to fight. I even had to use it in my own home so that I wouldn’t get hurt.”

Peter doesn’t raise his hand to stop me. He doesn’t quirk his head to the side to show he needs further explanation because he already understands. Peter knows like he always has. God, sometimes I wish he would just not know what to do or what to say. Somehow- someway, Peter always has a way of making everything in me find peace when I just want to rage against the tide and cry out.

“By now it’s just this horrible habit of mine that I thought I may have gotten rid of but,” my mouth runs dry as I try to get the words out. “But- but then I-” I swallow down my tears, “I killed that women Peter. I was the one who took her life and I looked at myself at that moment, disgusted by what I was even if I was defending myself. Then I saw you and I was so scared of how you would look at me, Peter. If I could barely look at my own reflection that day how were you supposed to bear the sight of me?” I pause leaving Peter room to bud in. He looks down at our hands and I suddenly feel his pulse thundering in his fingertips.

“And your dad?” he wonders to me. A tear slips down my cheek as I shake my head.

“I screwed up,” I admit to Peter. “I needed closure and I thought pushing you away was the best way to find it without hurting anyone.” I take a breath and rub the hot tears away from my eyes. “I love you,” I laugh brokenly. “I love you Peter Parker and I get that you don’t love the darkness in me. You’re not the one to blame about that if I can’t control or love it either and I know that maybe I’m being greedy in doing this; In seeking forgiveness but I can’t go a day without you. You brought something into my life, Peter. This light and warmth that I adored but when I pushed you away I also pushed away this happiness you brought to me. This bravery-”

“You were brave without me Y/N,” he states. I realize suddenly that he’s inching closer to me and smile.

“But you brought it out,” I tell him. “You brought it all out with your light. My bravery, my compassion, my peace. I found out I had these pieces hidden away in me because of you.” I hold his hand tighter. “You even shined a light on how- maybe- I am a hero, and without you, I don’t think I would’ve ever found it amidst the darkness my dad planted within me.” I suck in a sharp breath, still trying to hold back my tears. Peter’s eyes stick to my own attentively as I suck in one more breath before continuing.

“I want to try again Peter,” I tell him wholeheartedly, “but I understand if you don’t. I understand now and forever if you never even want to see me again.” I beam at him and hesitantly place my free hand on his cheek. “You deserve so, so much better than me.” Finishing my confession, I shrug my shoulders and let my tears fall down my face freely. Peter smiles back at me and places his hand over the one I’ve placed on his face.

“Maybe,” he responds quietly before taking another step towards me, “but I want you.” Peter lets go of my other hand and pushes his fingertips through my hairline. I gasp at his touch and close my eyes. His breath ghosts across my cheeks, warming them until they’re tinted pink. My thumb begins to rub circles on his cheek. When Peter is just about to close the gap between us after being deprived of each others touch I press a hand against his chest.

“Wait,” I mumble and look up into his chestnut irises. “Are you sure you want to do this Peter?” Another tear slips past my eyelashes. “After everything I’ve done to hurt you, are you sure you want to give me another chance.” Peter grins and uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away the single stray tear.

“I’m willing to give you a million more Y/N,” he declares. I nod and watch as he leans in again.

“But-” I stall him like before. Peter rolls his eyes humorously and pushes my hand away from his chest.

“Just shut and kiss me,” he laughs before pressing his lips against my own before I can stop him. I giggle back into his mouth and drape my hands across his shoulder. At first, the kiss was slow and gentle but now we have remembered the feel of one another; the way our bodies curve in and out and how our hands move against each others’ body. Now it’s needy, showing just how desperate we are to be connected again.

I gasp when Peter suddenly steps forward, pushing my back against the wall. He smiles against my lips proudly while I just shake my head in disapproval.

“You’re a freaking nerd,” I retort without reason, not knowing what else I could call him. Peter pushes away from me and looks into my eyes, revealing his blown pupils to me. His hair is mussed and the sight makes me get on my toes and press a soft kiss against his forehead.

“I’m your nerd,” he responds happily. Peter exhales the warm words against my collarbone. I shiver and drop back down so that I’m not on my tip toes anymore.

“Yeah,” I whisper to Peter, keeping my eyes locked on his wistfully. “You are mine.” I go into kiss him but before I can I hear footsteps in the hall.

“Peter!” May shouts for her nephew. Both Peter and I look at each other fearfully. I drop his hands and sprint to the still open window. The chilling area slaps itself across my figure, already pulling the memory of Peter’s apartment’s warmth away from me. I swing myself out of the window, falling over in the process and making a thud that rattles the entire fire escape.

“Peter?” I hear May wonder from inside. My eyes close as I concentrate on my magic. It coils around me until I’m well hidden inside of its warm embrace. “What was all that noise about? And why is the window open? It’s snowing outside,” she interrogates as she walks towards the window. Her figure leans over the windowsill as she looks outside, shivering. A paralyzed hand stays over my mouth as Aunt May pulls back into her apartment and shuts the window.

I sigh and listen to Peter and his Aunt’s muffled voices as he comes up with some random excuse to keep her suspicion at bay. Without hesitation I sit up from my spot and look inside, a wide grin plastered on my face. While they’re distracted I wave my hand over the window, making a thin layer of frost to blur the image of him.

Laughing to myself I draw a messy web in the bottom corners before writing a message into the ice. I look it over one more time, reading the, “Love you Spidey,” in the softest voice I have. The orange light from inside warms me up one more time, tinting my skin with the hot color before I back away and go back down the fire escape. The world around me seems to have finally fallen asleep as I wander onto the streets of Queens once more.

Above me, I hear the single squawk of Icarus as she flies over me effortlessly. She glides only a few feet over my head, acting as a guide so that I can get back to home as soon as possible. I titter at her sweet gesture and pull out my childhood sling ring I had refused to use on my way to Peter’s apartment. Before, I had wanted more time to think about what I would say. Now I know I have plenty of time though.

I raise my hands while whistling for Icarus. Just as the portal into my room opens she swoops down from the sky and fearlessly flies in. I step in after her, looking back at Peter’s window which is still glowing with warm light. My eyes slide away from the image slowly, not wanting to really say goodbye just yet. Instead of listening to my heart though I mouth a silent goodnight to the night air as though Peter may just hear it and step into my portal, entering my home.


	19. Part Eighteen

“Y/N!” Tony shouts from across the base. “Peter’s here.” I hear both of their footfalls wander down the hall aimlessly, waiting for me to respond.

“I’m down in the lab with Bruce,” I call back to them, doing my best not to shock Banner as he connects cords of different colors to my body. He works meticulously so that no needles flowing with my concentrated magic don’t puncture the wrong spot on my body. Sensing that he is about to despite my effort I raise a finger to the spot where he needs to put it. My skin lights up on contact, revealing ever vein and capillary in my forearm for the nervous doctor.

“Hey kid,” Tony asks from the doorway. “I didn’t realize that I would be walking in on the magic edition of Bill Nye the Science Guy,” he refers casually to the wires and tubes that are feeding into my arms. I look up from Bruce’s work and at Tony and Peter who both stand a little bewildered by what is going on. Peter obviously more than Stark.

“You said you’d be willing to let me do what I needed to do to figure out more about what and who I am. This is apart of the process Tony.” When I finish my statement Bruce pushes and needle into my arm, making me wince out loud. Peter looks at me worriedly before turning to Tony.

“Is this a good idea Mr.Stark?” he wonders. Tony places a hand on his shoulder before moving into the room completely. Peter follows him obediently, not tearing his eyes away from mine once.

“You’re her boyfriend, Parker,” Tony remarks while looking at the screen to my left. “If anyone is able to stop Y/N it would be you.” I only laugh and shake my head. They have to know by now that I won’t be giving up on this. After a while of just staying away from the topic of my dad, I decided that I still needed some sort of closure. Some idea of what is going on inside of me. Tony made a deal with me once I told him the truth that I still wanted to know who my dad is. He promised that as long as I don’t hide anything from him or Stephen I’m allowed to what I need to do.

At first, it was just hospital records but each of them were dead ends. My father used fake names on everything. Even the marriage documents Tony was able to scrounge up for me. Thor had said he would look into the records on Asgard too. They’re just starting to uncover everything that was hidden by Odin after he banished Hela though, so I doubt I’ll be receiving anything from that end of the universe.

Then I got this absolutely terrible idea. At least that’s what Banner called it when I told him. By doing this I’ll be able to trace not only my heritage but also uncover everything about my magic.

“It’s just Tony’s tech mixed with my magic Spidey,” I assure and press a kiss to his cheek when he gets close enough, barely listening to Bruce as he makes a gruntled noise while doing his best to stick in the second needle. “It’s not like I’m going to spontaneously combust the moment the machine turns on.” I grind my teeth together suddenly as Banner sticks the syringe into my arm. Peter holds onto my hand patiently.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be too confident about that,” Bruce cuts in. Peter, Tony and I all look over at him simultaneously with looks of fear etched onto our faces but he’s paying far too much attention to my vitals to notice.

“That probably isn’t a good sign,” Peter murmurs and then pauses to look at me. “Should we have Strange supervise this?” he asks after a moment. I shoot an insulted look at him before looking down and busying myself with the tubes and wires that come out of me. Soft purple bruises are already appearing around the enchanted needles.

“I am the supervisor,” I snap back. When I look up at Peter I see that his eyes are on the glowing tube next to me. “It’s just my magic Peter. By doing this I can trace it to reasons it will… behave.” Peter nods calmly before swallowing down the bitter taste that had arisen in his throat. Reassuringly, I grab onto his hand and hold it close to my chest. Bruce comments on the fact I may mess with the wires but I just zone out his voice.

“I just don’t want this to hurt you,” he whispers. I smile up at him and place a hand in his hair, making Banner even more frustrated.

“I’m not going to get hurt. I promise,” I beam up at him. “Anyways, there’s a defibrillator right next to me.” Peter looks to where my finger points limply. His eyes hollow out as he looks at it and then to me. He grimaces a bit, obviously not comforted by the fact we have a device next to the medical table I’m sitting on that is meant to save my life.

“That’s not helpful Y/N,” Peter tells me shortly.

“Sorry,” I sigh and offer an awkward smile that warms him a little. “Just, trust me on this, okay?” I beg him. Peter groans before nodding in agreement. I squeeze his hand and lean back on the cold metal table. Stark taps on the screen insistently and shakes his head before looking down at me. Behind his usual facade, I see how much he wants to stop me from doing this. Instead of objecting to the experiment though he only readjusts a wire that is clipped to my fingertip.

“If anything happens Y/N; if your heart skips a single beat I will not hesitate to stop this.” Tony points accusingly at me. I only nod and look to Banner, who has his hand placed reluctantly on the switch that will turn our invention on.

“Ready?” he directs at me but everyone feels the need to answer. Each of us takes a heavy breath.

“Do it,” I exhale. My heart bounces around in my chest, ramming itself into the walls of my ribcage. Bruce pushes down on the switch. Automatically, I feel the surge of energy pulse through my body. My magic whirs inside of me excitedly, not used to be so concentrated. I gasp and close my eyes, doing my best not to act on the pain that is bouncing from nerve ending to nerve ending. Blue sparks fly out of my fingertips. Seeing that my magic is trying to escape I divert any power that I’m still in control of to keep it trapped inside.

I choke when I feel my magic swarming around my heart. The muscle falters for a moment and I can’t help but cry out at the abrupt pain that comes from it. Peter leans over me all of the sudden and I do my best to tell him to move. Before I’m able to a burst of magic escapes my body, rattling everything around me. My eyes droop lazily as I stare at the force field that has appeared around the medical table, shutting the three of them out. I let my eyelids droop, shutting my vision off in a second.

Right away I’m shot out of my body. My astral form tremors as I land on the force field only to bounce away from it and smack through my body and the table. It nearly tips over but luckily it catches itself on the corner of a desk trapped in here with me. Finally, I look around at what is going on. Bruce, Tony, and Peter especially bang against the walls my magic put up as a bulwark to keep them away from my body. With every touch it gets thicker though, making their attempts to free me worthless.

I float back up so that I’m not phasing through the floor anymore and look at my quivering body. Behind me, I hear Peter scream my name but everything becomes muffled and quiet as I watch the enchanted tubes connected to me shift slowly from the usual gold to blue, and finally, the two colors mix to create green. I furrow my brows and fly down to get a closer look. Hesitantly, I put my hand under one. The green light is drawn to the tips of my fingers, transcending the boundaries of the physical universe and the astral one.

“No way,” I laugh in disbelief and pull my hand away. The green magic returns back to its original flow and I wait for the monitor to ding with the information it will receive. Moments after I think it the screen to the left of my writhing body lights up, signaling that it’s okay to enter my dimension again.

With a sharp inhale, I fuse with my physical form again. The last thing I see before my eyes close are the force field walls collapsing.

As soon as I’m whole again I lurch forward, gripping onto my chest in shock after not being in the astral plane in so long. I claw at the wires and needles connected to me and pull them out without thinking twice. Peter immediately jumps into my body despite the fact I’m hyperventilating. After a few more breaths, I grab onto him as well. His scent wafts up into my nose, calming my senses so that I’m not so over stimulated. He pulls away from me for a moment. Peter’s clammy hands hold the side of my face as he looks me over to make sure I’m okay. I pant for air and look to Bruce and Tony. They both watch me closely as though they were expecting me to be dead after something like that.

My eyes flash to the screen quickly, only telling Bruce to check the monitor while Peter pulls my head into his chest. I breathe shakily. Subconsciously, I snake my hands up Peter’s torso and cling to his cotton t-shirt. He holds me tight against him and I feel more anchored to this world after my astral form was just separated from my body without my permission.

“This…” Banner trails off. We all look up at him expectantly as he inspects the screen again. Then again. His eyes keep flashing over one of the stats on the screen, conspicuously unsure of what he’s looking at. Surprising the three of us Banner spins around and sprints to grab something from his desk. He comes back with an empty syringe.

“I need to take a blood sample,” he rambles quickly and extends a hand to me. I only stare at the syringe though, thinking of the two that were stuck inside of me just a few minutes ago.

“Banner,” Tony pipes up after seeing the frightened expression on my face, “maybe that isn’t the best idea.”

“This is the best way to figure out if those results were right,” he states. I finally look up from the needle and at and Bruce. Nervously, I pull my hand off of Peter’s body and place my wrist in his opened hand. Gently, he presses the metal into my skin about an inch away from the original injection site. I clench my jaw and pay attention as he pulls the plunger up. At the sight of my blood in the tube, I feel nauseous and force myself to look away.

Much to my relief he doesn’t take a long time collecting the sample of my blood and before I know it, the pinch in my skin disappears and the muscle that was punctured feels sore. Peter runs a comforting hand through my hair as he watches Banner work. I, on the other hand, close my eyes and listen to his heartbeat. Unlike mine it is steady. My hand raises itself to the left side of his chest so that I can feel it more.

“Tony!” Bruce shouts from across the room. Stark stays rooted to his spot for a moment and I guess that they must be communicating silently before he pats me on the shoulder and goes over to Banner. I nestle my face further into Peter’s collarbone while trying to get over the weariness that has overcome my body so quickly.

All of the sudden I hear glass shatter. I lift my head and look at where the noise originated from. Both Tony and Bruce are standing completely still and looking down at the ground where the vile of my blood had fallen. Instead of my blood though I only see shards of clear and green glass. I hold onto Peter when a vibration pulses through the ground. It travels up into my spine, making me wheeze.

I can barely keep my eyes open as the transparent green debris on the ground float upwards. We all watch, completely stunned by what’s happening as the solid matter suddenly turns into a thick mist. It stills for a moment and I feel like it may have actually paused mid-air. Clumsily, I disconnect from Peter and stand from the metal table. His fingers brush against the back of my wrist in an attempt to drag me back to him but I’m far too enamored with what’s in front of me.

Somehow, I can hear the mist. It murmurs sweet words into my head. Ones I doubt I could pronounce even when giving my best effort. Ignoring that thought though, the swirling and soft words tumble past my lips, responding to the mist. A jolt of gold pulses through the cloud like electricity. I’m drawn closer when I see it, my wonder getting the best of me. We keep speaking to each other even if I don’t actually know what I’m saying. Another pulse pushes out from the center of the green mist, reminding me of some sort of intricate hypnosis.

Once I’m close enough I raise my hand to the glowing cloud. The unknown language keeps spilling past my lips as I draw closer to whatever this is. A whirlwind of confusion is swirling around my head but I shut it out, only wanting to concentrate on the curious thing I’m watching. At first, the green mist splits when my hand gets close enough to touch it. Whatever it is, opens itself up so it can first inspect my hand. At least that’s what I think from watching it. It sharpens at times into little shards of glass and prods at my skin gently and turns my hand around so that it may study the scars on my palm.

After some time, it coils back into itself and I think for a second that it may not want anything to do with me anymore. Right when I’m about to turn away the green mist shoots into my chest. I choke on my own breath, nearly keeling over at the random entry. Suddenly, all of my energy is returned to me. For the first time in my life, I finally feel the difference between being completely powerless and this- whatever this may be.

Peter leaps towards me, catching me before I fall to the ground. I look at my fingertips that are now vibrating with light that shifts from green to gold and to the usual blue magic I produce most of the time. That isn’t the confusing part though. When I raise my hand to my face and wave it around the light blurs behind it and layers itself like some sort of glitch happening in the real world. I can’t tear my eyes away from it. The voice in my head still drones on tirelessly, doing it’s best to explain what is happening to me most likely.

I look up at Tony and Bruce finally. They are watching my hand too, just as intrigued by what’s happening as well. My mouth drops open to show my delayed awe and I shrug.

“What,” I begin breathily. “What were the energy readings on this?” Bruce takes a step closer to me so that he can study the lights trailing behind my hand.

“They were off the charts,” he smiles at what I’m able to do while I furrow my brows. “Which has only ever happened with-”

“The mind stone Vision has,” Tony interrupts. I look up at him with Peter’s arms still wrapped around my torso. Silently, he lets me go once he knows I’m stable and looks at my hand too. “And the tesseract,” he finishes with a shrug that is too stiff to hide how scared he is. My eyes widen when I realize what they’re implying. Again, I stare down at my hand which is still buzzing with magic, though it has calmed down to a dim glow.

“Are you saying-” I can’t complete the sentence. The lump in my throat gets bigger than before so I feel like I’m choking on it.

“You have the time stone in you Y/N,” a voice chimes. We all turn around to face Stephen who stands in the doorway, just as unknowing and shocked as the rest of us. His mouth opens but nothing but silence escapes. Strange steps towards me quickly and Peter and Bruce part like the Red Sea. He raises a hand to my own that is still lodged in the air. The faint green light has returned back to my usual blue. When his fingers meet my palm there’s a burst of energy between us and I flinch.

He goes to grab my hand again, this time without hesitation. Luckily, there is no explosion when he looks over my palms. Strange’s fingertips stop over my scar, the one I’ve had since I was a baby, and traces it. As he closes his eyes a green light peeks up through the valleys of my hand. Abruptly, he breaks away from me, causing my fingertips to spark with neon blue.

“Your father,” he murmurs to me. “He put it in you.” I look from Strange to Tony and Bruce and finally my eyes land on Peters. They hunt for any sort of solace or even confirmation but each of them are just as expressionless as me. I gulp down my fear and just nod because it’s all I really feel like I can do. At least for now.


	20. Part Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * signals the beginning/end of a flashback

Peter and I sit aimlessly on the wooden floor. I’ve tinted the window completely, preferring the darkness to read over my old spell book with. I read the language my father forced me to learn when I was so, so much younger. Then, I read to impress. To earn my father’s praise so I wouldn’t feel so hopeless. Now, I read to comprehend what is happening.

Strange explained to me that my father had cut the stone into me only moments after I was born, or rather used a weapon laced with the time stone’s dust. While Stephen hadn’t gone into detail he told me that it is why I have such a powerful inclination to magic. Tony came to my room next and sat in the dark room with me until Peter arrived.  
*****************

“I know this doesn’t make sense,” he told me reassuringly. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, not looking away from the book I transported from my old apartment.

“Doesn’t make sense?” I laughed. “It’s not even in the fucking book Tony. Magic like this shouldn’t exist. How the hell would Strange have found out about it if that’s the case?” I don’t expect Tony to answer me. It doesn’t matter anyway. I already know that Kamar Taj has thousands of texts explaining every type of magic in our known universe.

“We’re going to figure something out. That’s what the others want at least.” My eyes hallowed at the way he said that. Like he was lamenting.

“What does that mean?” I wondered. Somewhere inside of me I already knew what Tony was getting at, but I needed some sort of confirmation. Stark measured his words for a few seconds, really doing his best to figure out the best way of telling me what is happening.

“They want to know if there’s any way to take it out of you,” he replied. The words left his mouth and for some odd reason, I felt betrayed. Betrayed by everyone I had lived with for the past month and a half because I thought they didn’t fear my magic as much as I did. They do though. It made my insides ache and my heart crack along the seams I had just glued back together. Tony, taking it as his time to leave wrapped his hand around the door handle.

“Are you all going to talk about it?” I whispered quietly. I feared that if my words came out too loud Tony would be able to hear the emotion bleeding from them.

“Yes,” he said. “Cap, Bruce, and Strange think that it may not be a good idea for you to get involved in the meeting.”  
*******************

I chuckle sadly, remembering the whole conversation. Peter looks up from the only book I was able to recover from the apartment that’s in English. My eyes look up at him for a moment before I drop them back down to the complex writing in front of me, detailing what exactly the “infinity stones” are. Of course, they wouldn’t want me to get involved because they believe that I would fight for what’s inside of me. The thing is I don’t even know what that is. I know it enhanced my magical abilities from a young age which allowed me to excel when it came to sorcery. It actually would explain why I retain all knowledge so easily. The only thing I seem to lack is the patience of time.

My mind wanders back to the last words I said to Tony. We had hit pause for a few moments as though the hero had some sort of premonition that I wanted to speak up. Finally, I bowed my head and glanced behind me and at him. He had just started to open the door when I grabbed his hand.

There were so many words that wanted to flood out of my mouth. I wanted to beg him to fight to let me keep my magic because as much as I hate it it is apart of me. It flows eloquently through every vein and capillary and nerve ending, constantly pushing me to hone my skills more and more. I want my magic not because it has given me abilities some people can only dream of but because it is me. It always has been.

 

*“I know you’ll make the right decision, Tony.”*

That’s what I said. I didn’t cry to him on my hands and knees or pray to God that he doesn’t tear this piece of me away. There were no lies or excuses either. I said what I knew and what I believed because I trust Tony to act as my representative during the coming debate.

Being stuck in my room fucking sucks though.

Tiredly, I drop my head into the book, stuffing my nose right into the worn pages. Their scent reminds me of home. I force myself away from the text and laugh again, this time more amused than upset.

“You okay?” Peter asks. I look up at him and shrug, making him frown even more than before.

“Just annoyed,” I answer and place the book down on the ground. The enchanted bookmark I made to keep track of my reading when I was young automatically flies over to mark my page before I can even begin to close my book.

“I’m sorry,” he tells me shyly, not knowing how he can fix the situation. I just shrug and lean towards him. The moment I’m close enough to keep from hurting the both of us I limply drop my head against his chest. Instinctively, Peter wraps his arms around my waist and discards the book. He pulls me against him so that I can be snug against his body. Peter’s chin drops onto the top of my head as I sigh, feeling calmed by his warm touch.

As I embrace Peter back my eyes fall to the book he had set down only moments earlier. I eye the pages before gasping and pushing away from Peter dramatically. My hands pick up the book and read the paragraph that mentioned the time stone. The further I go though the more and more I realize that it isn’t giving me any useful information. I’m relieved when I find one fact that actually explains something but once I reach the end of where it describes the stone my joy is canceled out.

I toss the book to the side of me carelessly and groan. “How can there be nothing?” I growl to myself and drop my head to my hands again.

“Hey,” Peter coaxes while using his index finger to push my chin up so he can look right into my eyes. “It’s okay. I mean you had to have found something, right?” I close my eyes to hide my anguish and raise my hand. On command, the gold bangle around my wrist releases the tip of my needle. Peter’s fingers go up to the base so he can pull it towards him to get a closer look.

“When they inhabit a human vessel the stones come up with a protective measure,” I whisper in an attempt to keep my boiling rage stuffed inside. “The more volatile stones act on their own but the time stone… it gave me this.” My eyes open to look at Peter’s stunned ones.

Since I was young I had my needle. I hadn’t known why it had come when I was so young but now I do. The night before was the first night my father fought me in our own home, not the mirror dimension. It was the very first punishment I had where I was hurt both mentally and physically. That next morning the needle was produced to protect me from my father and I realize now that the stone has always been keeping me safe.

“I need to listen to what they’re saying Peter,” I say shortly and stand. Right away Peter grabs onto my hand to keep me from wandering out there.

“Y/N, you and I both know that is a horrible, horrible-”

“I need to know what they’re going to do Peter,” I beg, not bothering to cover up the crack in my voice. “They’re deciding my life out there and I can’t not be apart of that decision.” Peter stays on his knees, looking up at me with his warm, soft brown eyes. He sighs and stands with me. I smile triumphantly as he pulls my face towards his and presses our foreheads together.

“We get caught I’m blaming you Y/N Y/L/N,” he asserts to me, though I can tell he doesn’t really mean it because of the wide smile covering the majority of his face. I smirk and press a kiss to his cheek in response.

“Good thing we’re not going to.” I wave my hand through the air simultaneously and in the next second, we’ve appeared at the very end of the hall. Immediately, I put a shield around Peter and I that keeps us unable to be detected while listening to the conversation. We separate our bodies from each other but keep our hands connected no matter what. Peter squeezes my fingers to remind me he’s right next to me while I’m crouching down to the ground.

“Is this the reason people are coming after her Strange?” I grumble to myself when I hear Bruce’s question which means I’m probably jumping in mid-argument.

“That could be a major explanation. All of the infinity stones are very desirable items in the black market of all planetary systems. Even simple remnants of one. The other could also be her dad,” Stephen informs the group from his corner of the room. “I and the other Masters can find absolutely nothing about who he is.”

“And her mother?” Thor buds in. “Y/N is descended from Valkyrie which automatically makes her a threat and possible ally to many in this realm and the next. Despite her powers being diluted by your human blood, she is still a born warrior who could compare to your Buck friend there.” Thor lazily motions to James who is leaning on the couch next to where Steve sits.

“It’s Bucky,” the super soldier responds monotonously. Thor takes a pause to look at him blankly.

“Yes,” he replies quickly. “Bucky.” I have to shove my hand into Peter’s face when he chuckles at the interaction.

“Strange,” Steve begins, ignoring the comments shared only moments earlier. “You’re our point man here. What do you think we should do?” Stephen’s eyes widen a bit at the simplicity of the question. His hands raise up in a shrug and the corners of the cloak follow suit.

“I’m here as a proctor,” he corrects. “You guys debate on a decision with the information I give you and I’ll say if it’s good or bad.” There’s a mutual sigh between all of the superheroes.

“Well that’s helpful Stephen,” Natasha slumps into the cushioned chair so much that I feel like the material may swallow her petite body. She turns to someone out of my sight suddenly. “Tony, you’re being worryingly quiet about this entire situation.” Finally, Stark steps into view so I can see him talk. His hands clap together before he snaps and turns towards the assassin.

“That’s because I know you won’t like what I say,” he chuckles nervously.

“And that is?” Sam asks and I scowl at the fact that even he was allowed to this secret debate but I, the person who it’s about, wasn’t. At least Loki isn’t listening in as well to decide my fate. Tony thinks about his question for a second and while I can tell he has an answer in mind he is trying to figure how it should be phrased. A worried expression crosses my calm facade as he prepares to answer.

“I think the kid should keep it,” he finally admits, causing a few surprised expression among the Avengers. Even I’m confused. My curiosity shows through when a smile appears on my face though. “She deserves to keep the time stone. Y/N’s earned the right to keep it in fact.” Tony is confident in his response but the others aren’t.

“We know this Tony, but we need to know that the remnants are safe and the safest hands are-”

“They’re her’s Steve,” Tony snaps before Cap has a chance to finish. “They’ll always be Y/N’s. She grew up with pieces of the time stone in her. It is apart of her as much as her skin and blood and bones. It makes her up. It’s the finishing piece of what she is and I don’t think Y/N is the same without it.” I beam at Tony, but the smile falters a bit on the last sentence.

“Is?” Sam asks.

“Yeah,” Bucky drags out the word. “Are you speaking from experience?” Both Tony and Bruce share a knowing that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the group. Stark groans finally and rubs his temple. I grimace and look back at Peter who reflects my expression, knowing just as much as me that what he says next may make things more complicated.

“I was there with Bruce and Peter that day when we extracted it from her.” All eyes widen at Tony’s frightening comment. Peter holds my hand a little tighter to remind me he is still with me, but little does he know that I’m depending on that fact.

“You took the time stone remnants out of her?” Strange interrogates accusingly, even making me shrink away. Tony only rolls his eyes though and turns to the powerful sorcerer all while waving his hands around.

“Nope, no, shut up. I will finish what I was saying.” At Tony’s statement Strange groans and emphasizes the actions by turning his head up to the ceiling. “Anyways, we took it out of Y/N, and mind you it wasn’t even all of the remnants, and it was like she was a dead body. She was pale and stumbled when she walked and when she was talking to the cloud thing even her words were slurred and I shouldn’t have been able to tell because she was speaking an entirely different language. God, even when she was sitting Peter had to hold her.” Tony speaks with a passion I’ve never really seen in him but when I peek back at Peter I see a sort of familiarity in his eyes.

“She spoke a foreign language to a green cloud?” Clint wonders.

“Don’t ask me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it,” Tony waves his hand at the question limply. “What I was saying though is that if we extract it out of her whole body like Thor did with Jane she may not survive it.” Peter and I turn to each other, curious as to who they hell Jane is. Realizing neither of us knows the answer we both shrug and look back at the heroes.

“Why not?” Steve wonders. Tony shakes his head and stares at Cap, knowing he will be the hardest one to convince.

“You ever had withdrawals, Cap? Maybe from your super drugs?” I narrow my eyes, confused by his wording. Everyone seems just as appalled that he chose “withdrawals” as a comparison of what happened to me.

“What does this have to do with drugs Tony?” Natasha questions sharply. “We’re talking about an all-powerful infinity stone in Y/N, not about the meth epidemic.” Everyone, including Peter and I, look at Tony expectantly.

“Because that is what it might as well be,” he retorts and I furrow my brows. “She’s had this thing running through her veins for sixteen years now. It enhances her in ways she doesn’t even understand yet. She doesn’t get fatigued when she uses her magic that often, she does magic enchantments without even knowing what she’s doing, Y/N has the capability of leveling whole cities with a thought if she had that sort of control. That is if what Strange said earlier is the truth,” Stark’s eyes flash to Stephens and the sorcerer nods in confirmation.

“This seems like the exact reason we need to take it out of her Tony,” Bruce chimes finally. “I think Doctor Strange would agree as well.” Automatically, all sets of eyes in the vicinity shift over to the sorcerer.

“That’s actually the exact reason Y/N should to keep it.” Much to my relief, Strange gives his genuine opinion on the topic. “We, as sorcerers and the protectors of this domain have many protections over this Earth but they fall far too easily to really be defended anymore. A few zelics were able to topple all three sanctums in a matter of days. After that Earth only has the sorcerers and Earth’s mightiest heroes to protect it.” Stephen finally steps out of his corner of the living room once he reached the middle of the speech and something that was etched into his words called out to me.

“So you’re saying Y/N is a glimmer of hope if that ever happens?” Clint asks. Strange smiles and I see his eyes barely flicker towards me, sending a shiver up my spine.

“I’m saying Y/N would be our only hope.” I watch him closely, making sure that Strange really does mean what he’s saying. As I’m studying the sorcerer the sun dips into sight, creating an orange haze in the whole room so that we all know that twilight is on its way.

Tony cuts through the light abruptly and pats Stephen’s shoulder. “Thanks, doc,” he remarks as he passes. The both of them have been made into darkening silhouettes because of sun’s continuous descent.

“My question is why can’t we just extract the time stone from her system until the time comes?” Bruce suggests, earning a murmur of agreement from about half of the heroes.

“May I bring us back to my whole drug withdrawal thing?” Tony proclaims his question to the whole base.

“Here we go,” Sam whispers. Suddenly I see something in Tony snap and in response Peter squeezes my hand, startling me before I remember I dragged him here with me.

“No, no. You don’t just get to go here we go,” he hisses at the Falcon, losing his composure and not even bothering to regain it for the first time from what I’ve seen. “Wanna know why? Y/N’s life may literally depend on having the stone remnants in her.” All the air is suddenly sucked up when we hear his weirds. Tony doesn’t speak for a few seconds, letting what he just said resonate with all of us. Peter instinctively pulls me closer to him and I oblige. When no one interjects Tony wipes his face with his palms, probably thinking it might rub off his emotions.

“Sixteen years. Sixteen years she has been living as one with that stupid fucking stone her father sliced into her body when she was a baby and I don’t think she can survive not having it in her. Seizures are one of the worst cases when it comes to withdrawals. Hallucinations too. That’s for drugs you find teens selling on the streets though. Xanny or whatever. This though? This is an infinity stone and I-I just can’t stop thinking about what could happen if we take that piece of her away.” Both Peter and I still when Tony stutters on his words. There is a desire in me to go to Stark and assure him that I won’t be losing anything. I still cling to the shadows as dusk nears though.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Steve tells Tony from his spot on the couch.

“And the stone isn’t Y/N Tony. Y/N is Y/N,” Natasha murmurs in response. Lucky for me Tony is persistent with his opinion on the topic though.

“It is though. Y/N grew up with that in her. It has always been apart of her and we have absolutely no right to remove it from her without her wanting it too.” Finally, Tony finishes his speech, leaving it up to everyone else to figure out what to do.

“Tony’s right you guys,” Clint breaks in randomly. “I’ve never been one for imposing on a kid’s life-”

“Yeah. We know,” Natasha smirks from the couch. “You let Wanda disappear with Vision the moment they got the chance.” Clint disperses the comment from the air with a flick of his wrist.

“That’s beside the point right now,” he chides. “Y/N may be young but this is a piece of her that only she can decide if it can be taken away or not. No one else here can do it for her.” Everyone in the room considers his point.

“Y/N has proven that she can handle the time stone remnants repeatedly,” Bruce adds. “Her skills are stunningly honed with the stone and we’ve seen that proof during her fights. If anyone should be allowed to keep it it’s her.” A smile I hadn’t even noticed on my face begins to grow as I listen to each of their agreements. Next, everyone looks at Natasha who is still positioned casually on the couch.

“Fuck it,” she begins. “Y/N should keep it like Tony said. I can’t think of anyone better to hold onto the time stone. No offense Strange.

“None taken,” Stephen shrugs.

“Woah woah,” Tony stalls the rest of the confessions. “Is this the second time you’re agreeing with me, Nat?” Natasha rolls her eyes aggravatedly.

“Don’t make it the last Stark,” she hisses. Tony puts up his hands defensively, allowing the original conversation to continue.

“I think Y/N should keep the stone,” Bucky comments his belief on the topic for the very first time. “If I could figure out how to control what’s inside of me even after having my brains stirred up then she can too.” A look of surprise settles on Tony’s face but he doesn’t speak on the surprise that comes from getting Bucky’s support.

“Buck is right,” Thor announces from his spot, making Bucky groan. “Y/N has a strength in her that doesn’t just come from her heritage. That is a rare trait.”

“I may not know Y/N very well,” Sam chuckles lightly as he reminisces about something. “The first time we met she told me she was Tony’s kid and I believed her because she was just so fucking sarcastic.” Everyone nods in mutual agreement except for Tony who just stands in the middle of the living room, hilariously confused. “From what I’ve seen though she uses her abilities for good and that’s something we could really use.”

Finally, everyone glances at Steve very blatantly. He looks up at Tony curiously, possibly wondering why he feels so passionate about the subject just like I am. Steve looks away all of the sudden and stares out of the window where the sun drops below the horizon theatrically.

“Y/N deserves the stone,” he agrees quietly before looking back at Tony and nodding. “Her and the stone are one in the same.”

Without my consent tears begin to spill from my eyes that are wide open. They’re definitely not like the tears I usually have though. Those ones are painful to shed and leave my eyes stinging in the worst way for hours. These are pure and relieving. I finally feel like I can take a breath of fresh air when they are released. They drop to the floor sweetly and with them the veil around Peter and I falls as well.

Immediately, all eyes in the room land on us as I laugh through my sobbing. A high hiccup escapes my throat, making my laughter all the more genuine.

“Thank you,” I cry to them joyfully. My eyes move to Tony and Stephen who are watching me with a straight faces. “Thank you,” I repeat and I know that they understand it is meant for them. From behind Peter hugs me protectively and I close my eyes, shamelessly sobbing the entire time. After a few seconds another pair of arms wrap around me. My eyes snap open to see the back of Strange’s cloak. The collar of it reaches towards my face and rubs away a tear, causing me to giggle harder before nestling my face into the stiff fabric.

As more seconds pass I see Tony approach out of the corner of my eye. He crouches next to me, not wanting to interrupt on the hug I’m receiving. Somehow, I manage to remove my hand from the tangle of bodies and grab onto Stark’s. He grins at me proudly and I choke on another happy sob.

“I knew you’d do the right thing,” I repeat to him and peacefully shut my eyes so that I can feel every ounce of love radiating off my limbs.

“We’re all with you kid,” I hear Steve assure me. Though he isn’t as close to me as Peter, Strange or Tony, I still feel the security of his presence just like I feel it from the rest of the heroes who gape at the scene unfolding in front of them. I nod and hide my tears further into the cloak of levitation, which still kindly wipes them away.

“I know that now,” I reply even though the sound of my voice is too muffled for them to hear. The orange light of the setting sun seeps in through my eyelashes to tint my little bit of vision the warm sunset color. “And I promise I won’t forget it anymore.”


	21. Part Twenty

Peter and I sit on the two bar stools in front of the kitchen island with our legs intertwined. He runs a hand through my hair thoughtlessly, not really focused on me while we both look down at the stack of waffles that waits patiently for us to finish it. I grab one and split in half, humming to myself quietly as I bite into it. Behind me, I feel the heat of the sun shining into the base. Almost everyone is still asleep like they are on most weekends. Per usual, Peter got here around eight to hang out with me before we had to begin training.

Right when I set my waffle down Peter sleepily drops his head onto my shoulder, prompting me to run a hand through his curly chestnut hair. While I pet his head I look down at the bruises on his wrists. I frown, remembering the news of the robbery and feeling so very helpless as reporters caught the infamous Spider-Man fighting the criminals. Dropping my hand from his hair I place it on his wrist, earning a high pitched wince from Peter. Immediately, I pull my hand up from a little to soften my touch.

“I wish I could’ve been there,” I whisper into the skin of his cheek. Peter readjusts himself so that he can hold my hand.

“I wish I was with you for a lot too Y/N,” he tells me. A small smile touches my lips as I look down at him. His eyes are linked with the deep scars on my palms. Leaning down, I press a kiss onto his head and breath in the scent of his shampoo mixed with the fire from last night. Peter pushes his body away from mine and places a hand on my cheek before planting a kiss on my lips. It only lasts a second but when we pull away he presses his forehead against mine so he can keep our eyes connected.

“Awww,” Clint finally speaks up from where he silently stood by the fridge. Peter and I look away from each other simultaneously and at the man in front of us who chugs his coffee. “Peter and Y/N kissing in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-”

“Oh shut up Clint,” I interrupt the chant while doing my best to keep the blush spreading across my cheeks discrete. Despite my efforts, Clint sees the pink tint and smirks victoriously. He walks around the kitchen island so that he’s standing next to me.

“Oh come on Y/N. Can’t we talk civilly? You know,” Clint punches my shoulder gently to make sure he still has all of my attention, “bird to bird.” Behind me, Peter breaks out into abrupt laughter. I roll my eyes and turn towards him. He has a wide smile covering the majority of his face that makes me smile as well. I push him lightly to make him stop.

“Oh shut up Peter,” I chuckle. Peter halts his laughter for a moment and beams at me daringly.

“Or what?” he murmurs under his breath. I leer at him.

“Or I’ll make you.” Peter and I both lean forward, maintaining eye contact the whole time to see who backs down first. He cocks his head to the side casually.

“I’d like to see you try, Blue Bird,” he mocks calmly. Subtly, I place a hand on his thigh and lean in far closer than before. His cheeks begin to blossom with pink flowers of heat as he looks down at me. Continuing to smile smugly I tilt my head to the side too.

“I’m sure you would Spidey,” I whisper to him, biting my lip more to hide the smirk on my lips than to be more “seducing”. Peter continues to stare down at me in a silent state of shock that makes me proud of how easy that was.

Suddenly a pair of strong arms wraps around my waist and pulls me off the stool and away from Peter. I yelp as I’m spun around so that I’m no longer facing the blushing superhero. My eyes drop down to the two arms around me to figure out who had grabbed me. On his wrists are two thick leather bands and I immediately sigh, realizing it’s Thor.

“Nope,” he starts while pulling his arms away from me. “None of that here.” I scoff and roll my eyes, doing my best to discourage the smile that has grown on my lips. Tony shoots me a knowing glare as he passes by.

“There will be no innuendos in my good, PG superhero base,” Tony remarks as he digs through the cabinets to find his usual mug. I laugh, finding the situation more humorous than annoying suddenly. When I look at Peter he’s gone back to eating our waffles to hide his face. A small grin spreads across my lips and I step around the island to grab a mug of my own.

“Coffee too?” Steve mumbles judgingly from his spot at the table, stunning me. “You really are breaking all the rules today kid.” I clutch my chest and shoot him a glare from where I stand.

“Where the hell did you come from,” I gasp while pouring the dark brown liquid into my cup. A little splashes over the rim and onto my thumb, making me curse. Quickly, I push the side of my hand into my mouth. The pain instantly diminishes as I glare accusingly at each of the superheroes.

“Language,” Tony shouts while looking at the fridge. I roll my eyes and move back to my stool next to Peter. We both fall back into our original position easily with are legs linked together to keep me stabilized as I reach over the counter and grab five sugar packets to make my coffee a little more bearable. While I’m adding the sweet contents to my drink Peter’s legs tense against mine. Fearfully, I glance over at him. His hairs stand straight up to alert everyone of an incoming threat.

Without a second thought, I stand from my spot and release my needle from my hand. It follows my command, shooting forward and towards the stairway before halting completely, only a mere millimeter away from an older man’s nose. He looks down at the pointed tip, unimpressed.

“I don’t think that’s any way to greet your boss,” he declares plainly before pushing the needle away from his face. I furrow my brows and call my weapon back to me.

“Excuse me,” I growl at him. Tony hastily steps in front of me to prevent any further conflict.

“Sorry Ross,” he shoots me a look behind his back before turning back to the man who has barged into our home. “The kid doesn’t play well with others.” Ross nods and steps into the kitchen. The air in the room is made dense and unbreathable in his presence. I look to the everyone else in the room who seems just as fearful of the situation as I am. Especially Steve.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, making a point to glare past me and at Cap. “Many people in this base don’t anyway so I don’t think she will make much of a difference.” I clench my jaw to swallow down the toxic words that threaten to spill from my lips. Ross walks right past me and grabs onto my coffee mug. Peaking into it, he determines what the content is and takes a sip of the liquid.

“That’s mine,” I mumble, knowing that I should keep my voice as low as possible if I don’t want to encourage conflict. Ross cocks an eyebrow and sets it down on the counter.

“There’s a ton of sweetener in it,” he remarks in a cruel tone.

“It helps brighten my mood for when I’m in the presence of pretentious shit-bags like yourself.” The words tumble past my lips with a sarcastic bite before I can stop them. Everyone sucks in a deep breath, wishing they could take back my words for me but it’s too late now. I smile up at Ross, challenging his authority in a way that is subtlety explicit. Abruptly he grabs my wrist and pulls it up to his face so that he can study my golden bangle. Venom rises up in the back of my throat. I yank my arm from his grasp.

“Touch me again and I swear to god I will kick your ass into another dimension despite the consequences,” I hiss up at him, ignoring the height difference between the two of us. Ross looks down at me, obviously stunned by how easily I threatened him. He pulls his eyes from mine and stares at Tony.

“I like her Stark,” he proclaims before picking my coffee up again and taking another swig of the hot liquid. “I may just have to hire her.” Both Tony and I freeze in our spots. We share a quick look until he turns back to Ross.

“Yeah… not gonna happen,” he retorts and steps further in front of me to block Ross’s vision of me a little more. Ross keeps up his serious facade for another moment or two before laughing to himself and shaking his head. We all keep a close eye on him and wait. He steps forward and places and hand on Stark’s shoulder, making him flinch.

“Too bad because I already have.” Suddenly the air is sucked out of my lungs and I have to gasp so that I don’t pass out. My eyes become hollow and I back away from Ross, my eyes flashing erratically around the room to find something to anchor myself to. Looking down at my fingers I see sparks of blue light. I clench my fist into a tight ball.

“Babe,” Peter whispers to me quiet enough so that no one else hears it. He lifts his hand to my own that still quakes with fear. Peter’s finger’s tie themselves to mine so that I know he is here with me. I nod and close my eyes, immersing myself in the feeling Peter provides me with. He pulls me back a bit until I’m seated on my stool again.

“Do you not get that all of you work for me in a way?” he asks. “The only reason you all haven’t been torn apart is because I allow you to stay together. Without me, there would be no Avengers.” I sigh and open my eyes, finally realizing what he’s getting at.

“Everett,” I announce. “We told him I was an Avenger, Tony.” I fall backward, letting the hard granite countertop catch me. Pain splinter through my spine but I feel far too numbed by what Ross is implying to truly care. Tony twists around and looks at me with his mouth agape, showing me that he comprehends the situation as well. Without breaking my eyes away from Stark’s I speak to Ross again. “What do want me to do?” I ask, half expecting to immediately be given some sort of absurd mission that will definitely kill me.

“You don’t need to just accept this Y/N,” Steve says from behind me. I shrug indifferently.

“I already have,” I respond in a monotone voice.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Ross grins and shoves past Tony who is still stuck in his mind. “Now you asked what I wanted you to do.” I limply stand when Ross’s hand comes into contact with my back. He separates me enough from everyone else so that I feel that I’m worlds apart, which is only a measly yard. “I want you to play the part. I want you to fight with them and attend the same parties as them and wear the suit.”

“There is no suit,” I mumble, keeping my head down.

“Then Tony will make you one,” he asserts quickly. “Most of all I want this to be public. After your whole incident,” I wince when he blatantly mentions the science center, “the people have been expecting you to be the great Blue Bird. They expect to walk out of their homes and see your magic. All I require is you to live up to those expectations. At least until the backlash from holding you is over.” I gulp and look up. Ross’s assertive eyes are heavy on my own, pushing my gaze back to the wood flooring.

“How public?” I whisper. Knowing in my heart and soul there is no fighting what Ross wants I decide to just agree to what he’s asking of me.

“Very,” he grins menacingly. “I want news crews to capture the Avengers newest hero. The Blue Bird with a hot temper and powers beyond belief. I want the newest addition to the Avenger’s young generation to be as famous as the world wants her to be.” Ross pulls his hand from my back and looks to everyone else in the room. “Can we do that?” he wonders.

I peek through the curtain of hair over my eyes and make eye contact with Tony who is still lost amidst the hurricane in his mind. “Uh,” he murmurs and breaks his eyes from mine. “I guess we could throw something together.” I bite my lip, working hard to accept this just as much as the others. Slowly, I wind my arms around my waist so that I don’t fall apart. Against my hips I can feel my magic humming for release, leaving little burns on my skin.

“Perfect,” Ross smiles before turning back to the door and walking out. “I hope I receive an invitation soon.” With that final, cruel sentence Ross disappears from our sight, leaving us to handle the suffocating air. I gulp and turn around to look at each of them. They all watch me worriedly as I hug my sides harder and chuckle sadly.

“I guess you guys got your hero,” I laugh and shake my head.

“Y/N,” Tony murmurs as he runs a heavy hand through his hair. “I’m so so sorry. I should’ve never-”

“It’s okay,” I cut off his apology. “It was my fault. Now, this is the consequence I need to face.” I drop my arms to my side and shrug to show them that I don’t care. With the burning tears welling up in my eyes I know any attempt I make to hide my emotions are futile. “It was stupid to think it wouldn’t happen.” My head drops to keep the single tear that falls from my eyelashes hidden.

“Is that what you want though?” Cap asks me, still standing behind the kitchen island.

“Is that really up to me anymore?” I wonder back, lacking the usual snap in my voice. Everyone watches me a moment more before dropping their faces so that they can look at the ground. “That’s what I figured,” I mumble before grabbing my sling ring and pulling it out of my pocket.

“Y/N, wait,” Tony pipes up finally and takes a step towards me. The portal has opened and I’m already stepping through though.

“I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me,” I reassure before the golden hoop disappears into a flurry of glowing sparks, leaving me in my startling quiet room. Clumsily, I stumble back. My eyes shut on their own accord as I let out a quiet, choked sob. It is the only noise to be released from my head because the very next second I’m rubbing away the tears laying on my waterline. Suddenly, I find myself backed up against one of my walls. A pulse shoots out from where I made contact and Friday automatically comes to life.

“Hello Y/N,” she begins. “How can I help you?” I groan and turn towards her, millions of thoughts racing through my mind.

“Take me somewhere else,” I request numbly. My head drops against the wall and I fall to my knees.

“I can’t take you anywhere Y/N,” she replies calmly. “However, I can display a projection of anywhere you’d like to see.” I just nod against the blank wall. “Is there any place you specifically want to visit?” she asks politely.

“No,” I hiss under my breath. “Just please, please, show me anywhere.” Heeding my command without saying a single word Friday makes the wall go from a blank white to forest green. I look up from my tattered jeans and at the image in front of me. A forest waits patiently beyond me. My fingers approach the wall and I push my palm against the screen. Not finding the screen satisfactory enough for what I need right now I let my eyelids fall, allowing me to concentrate.

When I open my eyes again I’m surrounded by the entire deep green forest. The grass below me licks at my fingertips and the canopy of trees provides shade so the hot rays of sunlight won’t beat down on my face. I sigh and run a hand through the lush greenery. My heart rate slows down enough for me to enjoy the illusion I’ve conjured. A smile slowly begins to spread across my chapped lips lighting up my face.

“You did a good job on this one,” a voice behind me announces. Already knowing who the woman is I don’t bother turning around. “I can even feel the breeze.” I smile and nod. Silently, she approaches where I sit and kneels next to me. My eyes move up to the soft yet sharp features of her face. The glimmer in her eyes that I always love. Now there is something added to the mirage that makes her whole. Tattooed onto her forearm is the mark of the Valkyrie, which I hadn’t known about until Loki revealed it to me.

“Hey mom,” I beam up at her. She has traced every leaf in the forest already, memorized every beam of sunlight and has discovered every bird hiding amidst the thick foliage.

“Hello Y/N,” she replies, refusing to tear her eyes away from my creation. “You’ve done so well with your magic.” I swallow hard and nod, knowing how this always ends.

“Thank you mom,” I whisper to her kindly, wanting so badly to preserve this illusion as much as I possibly can. My body naturally flinches when her hand settles on my own. Dread settles in my stomach as she pets the back of my hand, not yet finding the scars on my palms.

“I’m proud of you, Y/N,” she begins. “Words can’t even begin to explain the emotion in my heart when I see what you have become.” I watch her quietly for a moment, the sound of rustling leaves only adding to the beauty etched into every cell of her being. She finally drops her eyes from the forest and to my own. Her free hand comes up to my face and she rubs away the tears I hadn’t even known began leaking from my eyes.

“I miss you, mommy,” I cry weakly. My mother only smiles before dropping her forehead to my own so that our eyes are locked together. I stop breathing when I feel her other hand start making its way to the scars on my fingers.

“I’m right here with you Y/N,” she reassures but I only shake my head. “I’m with you right now.” I separate my body from her’s, preventing my mom from finding the scars that always promises one of the most unsettling ends to my illusion. In my heart I know I may have just made things worse.

“You aren’t here with me,” I mumble. “You aren’t even my real mother.” The conjured up woman cocks her head to the side and smiles, making me feel sick.

“Sweetheart,” she chuckles as she begins crawling towards me. “What are you talking about?” I shake my head wildly and back away from her only to be met with my cold wall.

“Leave me alone,” I grumble and close my eyes. The crunching of leaves gets closer as she nears my paralyzed body. “I don’t want you here. Leave me alone.” My voice gets progressively louder and I begin to fear that everyone in the base can hear my screaming.

“Y/N, stop it,” she growls as her calloused hands fall onto my face, shocking me. “I am your mother.” My eyes snap open and I glare right into her frightened eyes. Immediately she falls away from me.

“No,” I reply and shake my head. “You’re what I want her to be.” The illusion of my mom smiles up at me. Her hands that are still shiny from the tears she rubbed away begin turning to ashes that float upwards and into the warm breeze. I watch, still paralyzed, as her entire body fades away and once she has disappeared so does my trick. As soon as I’m free I let my head fall against the still glowing wall behind me.

Abruptly, a portal opens up in front of me and out steps Stephen. He looks down at me worriedly before falling to his knees and grabbing onto my shoulders. I stare right into his bewildered eyes as he scans over my face and limbs. Once he’s finished he groans and lets go of me.

“What the hell was that all about, Strange?” I ask angrily while rubbing my skin where his gloved fingers had pressed in.

“I heard you calling out,” he tells me. My eyes widen and I instinctively look out of the window and towards where I can see the opalescent glimmer of the magical shield Strange had set up.

“To the universe?” I wonder. When I look back at Strange he’s staring at me sadly.

“To your mom,” he answers gently, making me furrow my brows. “It had nowhere to be directed to because-” his voice drops off, deciding on his own that it wouldn’t be the best idea for him to say what he was going to say next. “I was able to detect it before anyone else could feel it.” I bite my lip and nod to show my understanding of his explanation. Subconsciously I draw my legs close to my chest to feel far less vulnerable.

“Thank you,” I respond with a short nod. Stephen’s eyes don’t tear away from mine though and soon enough I’m debating on whether or not to force him out.

“What happened earlier?” he asks after a few moments of silence. I scoff and shake my head, letting stray hairs fall past my ears and over my face.

“Some guy named Ross came to the compound today while you were out on your magic business,” I share the previous events of the early morning with him. “He said he wants me to become an Avenger.” Strange stares at me blankly, processing the vague information I just gave him.

“So he wants to have control of you,” Strange interprets. I shrug limply.

“I don’t know Stephen,” I reply. He sits down completely.

“Did he say why?” I growl within myself and run a hand through my hair. “Why he wants to-”

“I DON’T KNOW!” I scream finally. My hand has dropped from my head and held inside of it are multiple strands of hair. I pant, doing my best to stop my heart from beating so rapidly. “Maybe- maybe,” I stutter, desperate to find an answer as well. “Maybe because everyone has expectations now. He has the expectation that I’m dangerous so he needs to make sure I know he’s the authority and the world has this expectation that I’m a hero and so-” I can’t find the words anymore. Suddenly any and all sound trying to fight its way from within me is stifled.

“And so…” Strange encourages. My mouth is agape while I just sit silently grasping for answers but only coming up with empty words. I clench my jaw and drop my head onto my knees.

“How do you do it, Stephen?” I ask randomly. “How do you live up to these expectations people have of you?” When I glance up Strange is watching me closely to see if this is a question I really want to be answered. Whatever he finds within my eyes is enough to push him to help me understand.

“When I was a doctor I had a reputation to keep up,” he recalls a time before his magic. “I chose the people I worked on, knowing there would be little challenge involved. That’s how I lived up to expectation. At least when I was a surgeon.” I raise an eyebrow and push myself away from my knees so that I can look right into Strange’s eyes.

“And now?” I wonder curiously. Stephen smiles.

“Now I know not to expect anything,” he continues. “The world changes Y/N. People change and we are not the ones meant to predict the next thing they do. The world expects you to be a hero and that’s a hard thing to refute.” I laugh, agreeing with what he’s saying. “But it isn’t a matter of what they want from you. It’s not even about what you want from yourself, Y/N. This has always ever been what you hope for yourself to become, because you can’t expect the best or even the worst outcome. All we can do is hope for our possibilities to align in the way we need them to.” I think on what he’s said for a second.

“So you’re basically saying I need to give up control?” I ask. Strange stands and offers me a hand which I begrudgingly accept.

“I’m saying you need to accept that no one is ever really in control.” Although I don’t completely understand every word that has just come out of his mouth I still beam up at him, happy he could provide me some solace. All of the sudden the cloak comes around my waist and pulls me against its owner. I chuckle and hug Stephen. It takes him a moment but soon enough he has wrapped his arms around me as well.

“Thank you,” I mumble into his stiff tunic. Strange nods against the top of my head and pats my back, signaling to me and the cloak that it’s time for us to separate. Even when the relic drops I’m still clinging onto to Stephen though, finding comfort in his embrace. Comfort that I’ve been desperate to find for so many years. He looks down at me oddly, obviously wondering what’s going on in my head.

“Come on,” he says finally and I force myself to let go of him. “You still have training today.” I follow him out of my room when he opens the door.

“Oh come on Strange,” I plead jokingly. “We just had a heart to heart. Can’t training wait a few hours?” Unsurprisingly, Stephen ignores me and continues down the long hallway. I laugh to myself at his blatant annoyance, but my humor comes to a harsh halt when I see a silhouette out of the corner of my eye. Hurriedly, I turn around but I only come face to face with the air. For a moment I wait to see if anyone reveals themselves to me. Half expecting Loki to jump out I roll my eyes.

“God of Emo,” I whisper, not wanting to alert Strange. “I know it’s you.” Patiently, I wait another moment for Loki to show himself, but after awhile I realize he only ever comes out of his room to read or eat. As though my thoughts are a command, a door appears at the end of the hallway. Lining it is a green haze that is sickening. I gulp and back away from the bad omen, knowing that I need to escape its presence.

“Hey.” I turn around, nearly fainting before Peter’s arms wrap around me. I hadn’t even realized I was falling in the first place. “Baby, are you okay?” While I’m tucked into his chest I take a shallow, shaky breath and nod. Without his help I push myself upright. Turning around, I’m preparing to see the cursed doorway which I had thought could never leave my old house. I only find a blank wall though.

“Uh,” I stutter and turn back to Peter. “Yeah- yeah, I’m fine I just,” I take another peek behind me to make sure the door isn’t there, “I just thought I saw something.” Despite looking unconvinced Peter only nods, deciding not to push the subject.

“We should head to training,” he mumbles, checking my eyes to see if he can find anything in them. Knowing what he’s doing, I fake a smile and push my lips against his. Although he’s stiff against my mouth, the gesture makes him soften against me, hopefully distracting him from what he was doing only moments earlier.

“Can’t wait to kick your ass again Spidey,” I chuckle against his lips. Peter opens his eyes just to roll them.

“Shut up Y/N,” he says with a wide smile on his face. Again, I lean into him and connect our lips.

“Love you too.” While we’re kissing I have a shit-eating grin plastered on my face. “Hearing the actual words would be nice though Spider-Man,” I nudge him. Peter laughs and disconnects his body with mine. His warm brown eyes gaze deep into mine, making me feel warm. He connects both of our hands secretly as to not deprive each of us of each other’s touch more than necessary.

“I love you Blue-Bird,” he tells me with wide kind eyes. “I promise to love you in every way you deserve,” I smirk up at him, the hot blush spreading over my cheeks becoming far too embarrassing. Defensively, I drop my head into his soft cotton shirt.

“You’re such a sap,” I murmur into the t-shirt before twisting the both of us around so that I’m backing us out of the hallway. Peter rolls his eyes again, amused by how my behavior has changed so easily. As I lead us to the training room with a wide smile on my face I wonder if it may just be a real one despite what I believe. A month ago I would feel every reason in the world to fake this emotion. I would think was destined to fall apart. I would undoubtedly and profusely believe that it’d all be my fault too. That I’d be the reason everything came falling down around me.

That girl would see all the things I’ve discovered about myself- the stone and the dark scepter and my heritage- and scream for me to run. Scream that we stop before we went any further into this warm, kind place. Before I destroyed everything and left death in my wake. The people around me have taught me it’s not all about running though. In fact, I’ve found that running away from things doesn’t help at all but forces things to shatter sooner. These heroes have shown me that I am who I am: that there will always be pieces in me that I wish I could understand, that I wish I could destroy but also pieces I will grow into. They’ve shown me that I will have my wings and they’ll help me learn how to fly.


	22. Part Twenty-One

“Shit!” I yelp when one of Tony’s tools slips past the suit and into the skin on my exposed wrist. He automatically pulls away and stares up at me to make sure I’m okay. My teeth grind into each other, annoyed that this is how I’m spending my Saturday morning.

“Are you okay?” he asks before grabbing my hand and looking at the cut as well as the thick navy blue material. “You know if it weren’t for that stupid bird my hand would be ten times steadier.” I glance away from Tony who is kneeling in front of me and to Icarus. She squawks loudly for my attention, flapping her wings yet not lifting from the screen where she sits. Sighing, I turn back to Tony. He works diligently on the final details of my suit.

“She just likes hanging around,” I reassure him and glare at the crow, causing her to shut up. “And her names Icarus.” Tony scoffs as he lifts up the sleeve and looks inside. His tweezers push inside to prod at one of the wires that must’ve disconnected from the fabric. Abruptly, a jolt of electricity runs through me. I jump up and trip over a stray tool, falling backward. Before the ground connects with my back though I stop mid-air. Reluctantly, I open my eyes and look around only to be met with Tony’s accomplished gaze.

All around me is a haze of blue that tints the entire room. The blue lines of my suit are now filled with my bright cerulean magic. It ignites every nerve in my body, giving me energy that I hadn’t thought would attainable so quickly. When I glance over my shoulder I see that there is a blue shield around me. Gaining control of it, I manage to make the forcefield push me up so that I’m at the same level as Tony.

“How did you-” I smile down at the glowing lines of my suit that make the navy blue more vibrant.

“I combined nanotech with some of the magic stuff Strange gave me,” he tells me as he hastens over and looks at his design. “It’s able to harness your residual magic to produce a protective shield around the suit.” I nod, completely intrigued by the incredible tech. My fingers approach the tight sleeve of the suit. It allows me through, sensing no threat so that I can feel the fabric. It feels like metal against my fingertips. My hand strokes down towards my hand until I reach the edge. Then I go back up, surprised when there is more resistance. I look closer finding that what I thought was just a simple design is really small scales.

“You put in a crazy amount of effort into this suit, Tony,” I glance of from the scales curiously. “Why?” Tony stares at me for a moment, lost amongst the different options of things he can say. Finally, he shrugs and goes back to messing with my suit.

“The safer the better, right?” I narrow my eyes at him and cock my head, unconvinced.

“Yeah but-” I bite my lip. “It’s not your fault Tony.” Stark automatically stops messing with the suit. He stares down at the floor and clenches his jaw, wishing I hadn’t brought anything up at all.

“I shouldn’t have told Everett,” he mumbles and goes back to the holographic screen that is projected from the suit.

“And I didn’t listen when you told me to wait,” I assert and pull my hand away from him so he can’t work more. “We were just trying to be protective. You to me and me to Peter. Neither of us can be blamed for doing what we thought was right.” Tony shakes his head and looks up at me.

“You should’ve had a choice,” he responds with a low voice. I smile and shrug.

“I did,” I inform him. “Ross gave me the choice to become an Avenger or to run, which we both know I’m incredibly good at,” I chuckle while Tony drops his head to hide his smile. “I had the choice to run away right then and there. You knew I had my sling ring on me but I stayed.” Now Tony looks up, more curiosity than sadness in his eyes.

“Why?” he wonders.

“Because I am so fucking sick of running,” I answer. Stark glares up at me but I just ignore him. “I’ve finally found a place where I feel… safe and that- that’s big really. Even when my dad left and I was safe from him I-,” I clench my jaw and avoid Tony’s pitiful gaze. “I still felt so-so-so exposed and vulnerable. Like one touch would make me disintegrate, but then you guys found me and yeah I hated it at first but then you all managed to uncover me more and more. You guys brought out this thing inside of me and for the first in time in like, forever it’s something that I like about myself. Something that I don’t want to lose.”

Tony stares up at me, but all remnants of pity in his eyes have been lost and I’m shocked to see what I believe is pride. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying his best to discourage the wide grin that suddenly appeared on his face. I offer him my hand again so he can keep working.

“You’re weirder than the spiderling,” he remarks under his breath and grabs my wrist.

“Yeah,” I laugh. “That’s what happens when you learn magic before even learning how to talk.” Tony nods half mindedly as he finishes the last small detail. He pats my extended arm and stands up, brushing the invisible dust off of his band t-shirt.

“Okay,” he mumbles and walks around me to get a full view of the suit. “Do something.” I cock a brow and shrug, lifting my arms to show my lack of understanding because of Tony’s request.

“Uh,” I stare at my hands. “What should I-What do you want me-”

“Just any magic stuff, kid,” Tony tells me as he pulls up his holographic screen again. I nod and begin waving my hands around. My blue magic leaks from my scarred fingertips, creating an intricate design that fizzles with a pure and relentless glow that has the ability to make me gleam with joy. Abruptly, I flick my wrist and thousands of Morpho butterflies burst from the center of the magical emblem I just created. They swarm up and around me. My hair twists wildly around my face and my blue light swirls into the lines of my suit, charging it up.

Through the thick wall of butterflies, I spot Tony staring up at what I’ve created in wonder. Feeling encouraged by his expression, I swirl my hand through the air to create a far smaller design before whistling. The high pitch noise resonates on the walls of the lab. Suddenly, all of the butterflies fall to the ground in a circle around. They aren’t butterflies anymore though. Now they’re just shining blue and black feathers.

“Dramatic,” Tony declares from his side of the room, eyes still in the feathers. “Thanks for the magic show birdy. Really, helps me focus on the stats.” I can feel the sarcasm leaking from Tony’s lips but I just smirk.

“I’m not done yet,” I whisper. Before Tony can disagree with whatever I’m about to do I slap my hands together. On command, the feathers fly up and above my head, creating a halo before dropping behind my back. I hear them rustle together as they prepare for what I will do next. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on every single fiber and atom in the ball of blue. The connection between me and the feathers is made when I sense one find my spine. Taking it as my queue, I roll my shoulders and a pair of blue wings immediately unfold behind me.

I feel the weight of them on my back, nearly making me fall back like before. They sense my imbalance though and before I can even lose my footing they flap enough so that I can stand upright.

When I look from my wings to Tony he is, for lack of better words, stunned. His mouth has dropped open, revealing his teeth and his eyes are wide. He has completely stopped even looking at the hologram screen which is still the same color as before. That hopefully mean nothing has gone awry with the suit.

“Well that’s new,” Tony announces with an especially monotone voice. Icarus flies up into the air for a second before landing right next to Stark, seeming just as shocked as him.

“For the past two weeks, you know after Ross came, I uh- I started working on conjuring and this just came to mind.” Subconsciously, I flap the wings and look down. “They want a Bluebird so here she is. Wings and all.” When I meet Tony’s eyes a rimmed with the same pride as before once again and I adore the feeling.

“Y/N,” I hear a feminine voice behind me. Frightened, my wings fall from my back in the form of blue, gold and green sparks that sputter when they hit the floor. My hand jumps up to the suit so that I can clutch my heart and gasp. I turn around quickly to face Pepper and then look up at the time. It shows me I’m twenty minutes late to meet her.

“Hey baby,” Tony bounces in before I can apologize. “We were just uh… tinkering,” he offers unsurely. I grimace and look at the suit, trying to find a way to get it off.

“I told you I needed Y/N right at eleven so I could get her ready,” she reminds us both. Behind me, Tony stands and begins to walk towards her.

“I kno-” he tries to insert.

“She hasn’t even picked out a dress yet Tony. You and I both know how important this is so we can get Ross off of her back,” she rambles on but Tony continues coming towards her. “Now I barely have an hour to make sure everything’s in place, Tony.” Finally, Tony reaches his fiancé and places and comforting hand on her shoulder. Her mouth stops moving automatically and she sighs. “I need to get her ready.” Tony just nods in agreement.

“And you can,” he reassures before twisting his neck enough so he can see me. “Kid, can you head down to your room. Pepper will meet you there in a second.” I smile softly and nod, preferring not to cut through the intimate air with any words. Quietly, I whistle for Icarus to follow me out of the room and she does so without even squawking once. We walk move down the hallway together while I continue trying to figure out how to get off the suit.

Suddenly, I knock into someone and trip for the second time today. Before I can hit the floor a rough hand catches me and I stare up. Peter sighs and pulls me up gently as to not hurt my arm. In his hands is his phone which is glowing with a text he was just about to send to me. When he opens his eyes again they land on my suit. Peter’s eyes dance up and down the design, tracing the delicate and hard curves of not only Tony’s work but also my body with adoring eyes.

“Oh,” he mumbles and runs a hand through his hair, realizing he was staring too long. “Your suit looks rea-really cool.” I blush and look down at the thick blue scales on my shoulders.

“Thanks, Spidey,” I chuckle lightly and look up at him. In my mind, I take note of how well his hair is styled today until I remember that he’s going to be attending the event as well and Aunt May will be coming later. “Do you know how to retract it or anything though because I never really got the chance to ask Tony.” Peter seems lost for a moment, too distracted by the suit to answer.

“Sorry,” he shakes the blush from his face like before and takes a step closer to me. “If it’s like mine then-” Peter’s hand stops a mere inch from my sternum, his fingers hovering over the black outline of a flying bird. “You’re wearing something under your suit, right?” I stare blankly at Peter for a moment until I break out in laughter.

“Umm,” I manage through hysterical giggles. “Why?” Peter’s blush blooms upwards and towards his ears.

“Well, I don’t want to retract your suit if you’re not wearing anything underneath,” he remarks with a small smile. His hand is still over my chest.

“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “I’m wearing a sweater and jeans.” Peter nods and pushes his fingers against the bird. A pulse of light bursts across the entire suit the same way the wall in my room does when it turns on. Quickly, the scales of my suit fold over each other, shifting in color to a pale blue. They move across my body quickly until they have all condensed into the form of a thick choker that is loose enough on my neck not to bother me. I touch it lightly in acknowledgment to its presence.

“So,” I murmur and drop my fingers from the necklace, “You’re staying right?” I don’t mean for it to happen but my nervousness slides into my regular voice, making it edged with fear. Peter smiles before pulling me into him.

“Of course Y/N,” he reassures me. “Even Ned, MJ, and Vera are gonna come. You don’t have to worry about being alone.” I beam at him as Peter pulls away to press a quick kiss to my lips. Although it only lasts a second I still revel in the way his lips feel against mine, the way his hands hold my waist I little tighter and the heat erecting from his skin.

I separate my mouth from him slowly, enjoying the way he attempts to follow me as I pull back. Finally, Peter can’t keep his lips against mine anymore. He drops his forehead onto my shoulder and kisses the exposed skin right between my shirt collar and my hidden suit.

“I need to go, Petey,” I whisper into his hair. Even when I say that I hold him closer than earlier. “I have to get ready for the press conference.” Allowing one more moment of us together I press a kiss on his soft brown hair. Peter mumbles something into my neck but it’s far too muffled for me to hear it. He pushes away from me and grins.

“I’ll see you later Blue,” he whispers.

“Mhmm,” is the only thing I can say to him as he sets another kiss on my cheek and walks down the hall. I can’t help but smile to myself and look down in embarrassment. My eyes are automatically met with Icarus’s beady black ones. She cocks her head at me curiously another d squawks, flapping her wings in the process so that she can lift herself off the ground and perch on my shoulder.

“You know you can’t pull any of this shit when the party starts right?” She coos into my ear and nestles into her obsidian feathers. “Or I guess you can. It’s not like it makes me look any more like the wicked witch of the west or anything.” I continue making my way down the hall, exchanging quick greetings to any of the superheroes I see on my way.

Finally, I reach my bedroom door and am nothing less than surprised when I open it to see at least a dozen different dress options for the event. I walk in slowly, afraid that even my presence will destroy the beautiful articles of clothing. Reluctantly, I allow myself to feel the airy fabric of one of the dress. The dusty blue is beautiful and it makes me feel calm.

“Do you like it?” Pepper asks. Even Icarus jumps from my shoulder and onto the perch I set up for her by the window when our small corner of silence is broken. Feeling as though I’ve been caught doing something horribly wrong I drop the silky substance and watch as it slowly falls to my bed slowly, making me feel like it’s crafted from the air.

“Oh-uh-yeah,” I blurt. “It’s beautiful.” Pepper grins at me and steps into my room. The blanket of snow dropped last night provides enough light so that I can make out the different shades of greens and blues in Pepper’s which deeply contrast her pure white blouse. Her black skirt barely hovers above the floor so that I can see her heels.

“Well try it on,” she encourages and steps towards the bed. I watch, my heart thumping inside my chest as she lifts the beautiful dress up to my face.

“Maybe I should go with something more casual,” I suggest as I half minded my slide my fingers along the seam of the dress’s silver top. “I’ve never worn anything like this.” Pepper drops the gown a little so that she can make direct eye contact with me.

“You won’t ruin it just by wearing it, Y/N,” she tells me. “Anyways this is a big event and if you want to make sure no one messes with anymore…”

“I need to play the part,” I finish her sentence, already having heard it the past two weeks. Hesitantly I accept the dress from her. “So who exactly will I need to meet tonight?”

“You’ll be meeting with news crews and journalists and once that’s finished the party will start,” she informs me while she begins making her way out of my room so I can change. “It’ll mostly be retired military, some politicians and a few people special visitors who are friends of the Avengers. Nothing we won’t be there with you for.” I nod and take a deep breath, telling myself there is no reason to be scared.

Behind me, the door shuts, signaling that it’s time for me to put on the dress. I take one more sharp breath in and put down the airy fabric. Breathing out, I quickly pull off my shirt and begrudgingly look at the girl who watches from the mirror. We keep our eyes on each other for a moment before letting them fall onto our scarred arms. Usually, they don’t bother me but now they do. They’re ugly and jagged and in no way beautiful. They’re reminders of all of the things my father put me through on a daily basis. The fights I’d endure until I was broken. Even then I only had moments to stand again so that I could go through more and more and more and more.

I remove my bra and pull down my pants, looking away from the mirror because I know I won’t find any fewer marks on my other limbs. There’s still going to be pale lines of scar tissue and dark marks from uncontrollable magic. Then I look at the dress. It is the exact opposite of what I am. Smooth with no sharp edges or angry lines. No heaviness within the threads that tie it all together. My fingers curl up into themselves, suddenly more afraid that it may ruin me. Then I get an idea. A very, very desperate idea but an idea nonetheless.

Carefully, I unzip the silver too and slide on the gown my body. As soon as I get it on and zip it up it feels like it was made for me. The curves are parallel to mine and the deep neck isn’t as revealing as I thought it would be. The color contrasts my skin tone perfectly but I turn to the mirror to see if my hypothesis was right.

Just as I had hoped that dress doesn’t distract from the many scars covering my body. Really though, I don’t expect anything to be able to do that. Instead, it makes me seem more balanced. The rough, ridged tissue all over my arms seems calmer when the dress is so close to it. The thin straps almost blend into them even.

I jump up when I hear a knock on my door. After getting one more peek at the girl in the mirror I run over to my bed and quickly throw on a pair of heels that closely matches the dress I’m wearing before wobbling towards the door and opening it. Standing in front of me is Tony and Pepper. Both of which seem a little stunned by the extreme change I’ve made, at least when it comes to clothing.

“They’re here,” Tony finally decides to tell me. I gulp and exchange a look with each of them. Suddenly, Tony extends his hand towards me and I look down, finding notecards in between his fingers. “Just in case you get tongue-tied birdy.” I look down at them blankly.

“I don’t do well with having words given to me,” I declare to them. When I glance up to make sure neither of them are upset I’m met with Tony’s smirk.

“She’s too much like you,” Pepper mumbles while rubbing her eyes and turns away. I give Tony a look and mouth the words, “What is that supposed to mean.” His answer is only a smile though. He places a hand on my back and I notice how he had also gotten dressed up for the special occasion.

“I’ll tell you later tonight,” he promises. I cock an eyebrow and glare up at him.

“You mean when you’re hammered after the party,” I remark snappily, meaning it more as a joke than anything. Tony clicks his tongue against the top of his mouth.

“The only person getting hammered tonight is Thor when I finally manage to pick up his toy.” I roll my eyes to stifle the giggle that rises up in the back of my throat.

“Keep telling yourself that Stark,” I grumble sassily, earning a glare in return. Abruptly we stop walking. My heart rate automatically picks up when I hear the loud murmuring of all the interviewers downstairs. Any humor I had in me to keep calm has fluttered away much like the butterflies I conjured. I clench my jaw and look at Tony who looks just about as upset as I feel.

“Am I ready for this?” I wonder out loud. Tony opens his mouth to say something but before the words can pass his lips a golden light shines on the sides of our faces. We both turn simultaneously to see Strange wearing a normal white dress shirt for the whole time I’ve known him. I smile smugly at him.

“Glad you could finally show up Sorcerer Supreme,” I let my sarcasm drip from my smiling lips. He grins back.

“Nice to see you too Y/N,” he offers while stepping across the room so he’s closer to me. The smug expressions slowly drop down our faces like water though, revealing how worried the both of us are. “Are you ready?” I press my lips together and swallow hard, sneaking a glance at Tony who smiles at me reassuringly.

“If I’m not this is all for naught,” I admit, “so let’s hope for the best.” Stephen nods and looks down the stairs. I stare at them as well, already feeling frightened by the flashing of camera lights. I take one more deep breath before turning towards Pepper who waits for me patiently. Closing my, eyes I nod to myself and exhale.

“Let’s get this over with.” Without any further permission, I step forward and begin ascending the flight of stairs. I can barely breathe as the voices become louder and louder. They fill up my thoughts up so much that I can barely focus on the magic that keeps me balanced in such high heels. Behind me, I can sense Stephen, Tony and Pepper’s presence but they each feel so far away from me. Like they’re on Earth and I’m on a dented and scarred planet much like myself.

As soon as I reach the bottom of the stairs I’m bombarded with shouting and flashing cameras. For some reason, I’m more disappointed to hear them calling me the Blue Bird rather than my real name, which I know they all know seeing that it’s been plastered all over news articles and headlines for the past month.

Without Stephen’s hand meeting my back right then and there I would’ve fainted. Somehow I’m brought back to the moment by the deep scars against the similar ones on my own back though and I nod to show I’m okay. Hastily, I rush over to the podium, somehow maintaining some level of grace while I lean against the block of wood that is the only boundary between me and the hungry journalists.

Even though it’s the least of my worries at the moment I can’t help but remember that I hadn’t even bothered putting on more than face powder this morning. I have to grip onto the podium to keep from fiddling with my hair so that I could untangle any knots within the strands that I missed while styling it.

“Kid.” I automatically turn when I hear Tony whisper for me. His eyes are soft despite the consistent flashing of cameras. I close my eyes, knowing what he’s trying to convey to me through a simple look and gaze back out at the crowd of people who all wait impatiently with raised hands. Not knowing if I should begin with an introduction or anything I simply point to one of the people closest to me.

“How long have you been with the Avengers miss Y/N/L?” the woman in front of the podium asks. I consider her question for a moment, deciding if anything I say could ruin this entire situation.

“I was brought here for refuge and training approximately two and a half months in early October,” I respond to her question and subtly lick my lips. “I have been under their care ever since.” The moment I’ve finished more hands fly up and I numbly point to the next person, wishing that there was water up here.

“What do you mean by refuge?” the next interviewer asks.

“I was being pursued by dangerous sorcerers who-” Before I can even finish people begin shouting again and I feel the need to coil myself into a tight ball and hide away. Subconsciously I rub the sling ring on my fingers with my thumb, knowing in the back of my mind that if I need a way out I have it.

“Were you the enhanced person in the videos that were taken in late September?” I bite my lips.

“Uh,” I mumble, wanting more than anything to have taken those cards from Tony. “Yes. That’s actually the reason the Avengers were able to find me before anyone else could.” I decide to ignore the matter of the hunter who had trapped Peter and I in the mirror dimension and had threatened to kill me. I inhale some of the stuffy and hot air of the base and point to another journalist who seems to have a notebook full of observations already.

“While we may not have seen you fight with many of the Avengers, such as Tony Stark, we have seen you work with Queens, New York’s famous Spider-Man,” she recalls and I feel a bit anxious that she’s taking so long to lead to her question when we already have so little time left. “Can you in anyway confirm that you know the identity of the Spider-Man.” My heart falters for a moment and I mouth a silent thanks that my magic was there to keep my ankle from twisting when my heel fell out from under me. Fearfully, I exchange a look with Tony or at least try since his eyes are locked onto something far away.

“Erm,” I chuckle and fiddle with my fingers. Everyone in the room is silent all of the sudden. “Well, yes I have been acquainted with the hero and I have fought alongside him during the incident in Manhattan when multiple enhanced individuals were attacking a science center and-uh,” I find myself unable to continue, realizing I hadn’t even answered her question completely yet. “I have been trusted with the knowledge of who he is,” I confess finally, “but just as it was my decision to reveal my identity to the world it must be his own choice as well so… yeah.” I laugh again, finding how awkward I am annoying in an innumerable amount of ways. Again, I point to another journalist.

“Had the Spider-Man inspired you to become a hero in the first place miss Y/L/N?” When he shouts this question I don’t find myself stuttering or unsure. My fingers don’t fiddle or cling to the podium for dear life. Instead, my heart beats at a normal pace and for the first time during this entire press conference I know what I want to say next.

“I don’t think it was a matter of just the Spider-Man inspiring me to become a hero,” I admit to everyone, even the adults next to me. “I never saw myself as a hero before this past October. If anything I saw myself as a monster in a way. If we’re being completely honest here I hated myself.” The hand on my back suddenly becomes more firm, reminding me that Strange is still here with me. I look over to Stark who has an understanding expression on his face. “I-I had done things, said things, that I wasn’t proud of. Even. Now I’m working to accept that some of what I did wasn’t my fault. That I was given no choice and it really is a working progress.

“In fact, it’s a fight some days. I find myself staring in the mirror sometimes and listing off all of the things I hate about myself until I’m saying things that aren’t even real or just flat out don’t fucking matter at the end of the day.” I suck on my lip, a bit as a punishment for cursing during an interview and also that I’m dragging this out so much. “Yes, Spider-Man did inspire me but he didn’t inspire me to be a hero. He inspired me to look at myself in a different way. All of the Avengers inspired me in a way such as that actually. Stark inspired me to compromise and believe that the people around you actually give a shit about your well-being. And doctor Strange inspired me to realize it’s okay to be less than what others want and even what you want and that it doesn’t make you any less worthy of basic respect… especially from yourself.” I look down at the hoard of people eating up every word I let fall from my lips. I smile to myself, knowing just how to end this conference.

“Look I know you didn’t come here for some sort of TED talk but what I’m saying here is that no, no one inspired me to be a hero. I was, however, inspired to make a change. To uncover bits and pieces of myself, to push past all of the self-loathing and to discover these things that have been inside of me all along. So yeah, I wasn’t inspired to be a hero. It was inside of me from the day I was born and I just need a push, or a couple hard shoves to let it out,” I bow my head and laugh, finding a little bit a humor in my extensive confession.

“Sorry,” I apologize to not only the reporters but also Stephen, Tony, and Pepper who were all forced to listen to the entirety of my confession. “Are there any more questions?”


	23. Part Twenty-Two

I glance around the bottom floor of the base longingly, hoping I’ll meet Peter’s eyes soon. All I find our congratulatory stares and thumbs up from the other Avengers. The party had started thirty minutes ago and he was still nowhere to be seen. In that amount of time I’ve been introduced to three politicians, seven scientists, and four sorcerers who work with Strange. Months back I would have thought that my voice would’ve gotten raw with the number of conversations I had to engage in. Especially with those who have the power to send me to prison with the snap of their fingers. The exact opposite has happened though. My voice has instead grown more confident with every word. I guess that’s what happens when you give a speech instead of going along with a normal press conference.

People are already raving about my speech. I’ve even received messages regarding talking to other high schools. All of which I have gladly ignored. The world ate up the live footage just as much as the actaul videos of me using my magic.

“Y/N!” Tony shouts and I turn, mentally preparing myself to meet another general. “This is Rhodey,” he announces to me. “He’s been my best friend since, what, freshmen year of college?” I smile up at him and extend my hand towards him, silently taking note of everything about the man in front of me.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” I introduce myself and shake his hand. “Or Bluebird. At this point, I don’t even think it matters.” I chuckle. Rhodey nods, maintaining his grin before gesturing to my entire body.

“So you do magic like the girl from that one tv show,” he declares. I raise my eyebrows, a little surprised by the blatancy of his statement. Finding his reaction to my powers somewhat amusing I raise my hand. All of the sudden a butterfly appears in my hand before fluttering away.

“Yup,” I reply shortly. “I’m nothing like Sabrina the teenage witch though.” Tony rolls his eyes at my comment and groans.

“Really,” he mumbles tiredly. “Pop culture references now of all times?” I laugh and shrug. The dress draped on my figure responds to my actions easily, swirling and lifting with the movement of my arms. Whenever I find myself alone at the party I find myself staring down at the material and making it move with my magic.

“You can’t blame me. Rhodey started it and someone’s gotta fill in for the Spiderling, right?” My mood suddenly drops at my own mention of my boyfriend and I bite my lip. “Have you seen him?” I ask Tony pleadingly. He smiles at me softly before raising a hand to my shoulder. I don’t shrink away because of the gesture but I don’t find it truly comforting either.

“He said he needed to use the lab really quick,” he reassures me in a kind tone. “I’m sure he’ll be down in a few seconds.” I nod, feeling disgustingly alone all of the sudden. Fear and paranoia begin leaking into my mind, corrupting all of the confidence I was feeling earlier. I take in a deep, sharp breath and nod again as if it may just provide me a little more solace. My insides are still angrily wrapped around one another though.

All of the sudden a pair of hands squeeze my sides, distracting me as I yelp out loud which gains the attention of everyone in the room. While hiding my face I turn around quickly and find Vera in front of me. She shows me a wide smile as an apology for just scaring me. Vera has a light pink dress that hits the floor just like mine. Somehow it makes her blue eyes glow.

“Sorry,” she giggles before pulling me into a hug. I laugh as well and embrace her back, finding comfort in her more than anything else.

“I’m so happy you could make it,” I mumble into her neck. She nods against my head and pushes away, taking in what I’m wearing with wide eyes. Luckily Vera doesn’t even need to say what she’s thinking because I’ve already seen the look a hundred times earlier today. “I know. This is probably the nicest I’ve ever looked.” Vera rolls her eyes.

“No shit,” she laughs. “I’m gonna grab a drink. Do you want anything Bluebird.” Vera works very hard to emphasize my superhero name as she begins walking backward and towards the table filled with food. I beam at her, glad she was able to comfort me in so little time.

“Just a water please,” I request and turn back to Tony who is staring at Vera with narrowed eyes. “What is it?” I murmur. Stark whips towards me, obviously surprised at the sound of my voice breaking through his inner dialogue. Rhodey pretends to see someone waving for him and leans in, telling me it was nice to finally meet the resident magic teenager before walking away.

“Who is that?” he asks. Not meaning for it to my heart drops a bit, the tendons holding it in place straining to keep it from falling to the floor. I laugh, hoping that this is some sort of stupid joke.

“Don’t-” my voice cracks, the laughter not able to manage to stay in my voice for even a sentence. “I thought you knew Vera,” I try again. My breathing has become short and choppy, unable to bring in the amount of oxygen I so desperately need at a moment like this. My confident facade remains though, not alerting Tony to anything suspicious. Even a random person who passes and gives their congratulations is fooled by my faux happiness. Tony shakes his head and looks back at Vera who is conversing with someone.

“No,” he replies. “Never met her.” I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Weren’t you the one who asked her to keep an eye on me during second period though? Ceramics?” I question, finding it harder and harder to keep the smile on my face. “When Peter couldn’t?” Tony looks back at me. His eyes are filled with a starving curiosity that I can’t for the life of me feed into. Doing so could make this situation a million times worse and I absolutely can’t have that right now. Not with Ross riding my ass.

“I always thought the Spiderling was sufficient protection,” he informs me. “You never know though. Strange could’ve asked just as a precaution.” Subconsciously, I look over to Stephen for some sort of answers. All I discover is more fear though because his eyes are locked onto Vera with a silent horror that I recognize all too well. Slowly, I turn back to Tony.

“Know what,” I chuckle. “I left my phone upstairs and Peter could’ve texted me. I’ll be right back.” Tony prepares to protest but I’ve already turned away. I hasten to the second level of the base, nearly tripping over my dress twice before hiking up the skirt and sprinting. Running through the halls, my vision turning white with terror, I don’t notice Peter stepping out of the lab. Our bodies collide abruptly, and he barely has a chance shoot a web at the door to keep us upright. I pant against his dress shirt and shake my head.

“Hey Y/N,” he says in a confused voice, not yet realizing that I’m hyperventilating. I push myself off of him and hug my body. Finally understanding that something’s up Peter disconnects from his web and steps towards me. His hand meets my hot cheek and I immediately nestle my face into it, searching for relief from the panic I just felt in his skin. “Are you okay?” he wonders. I nod against his palm. 

“I’m okay, I just-” deciding not to reveal my fears I look up at Peter sadly. “Where were you?” I ask. Despite the cold loneliness deep in the edges of my voice Peter’s eyes light up and pulls his hand away from me. Not wanting to lose the feeling of him completely I step closer to him and watch as he digs through the different pockets of his black suit. Victoriously, he pulls out a silver hairpiece and shows it to me, pride evident on every line of his face.

“I-uh-made this for you as a sort of congratulations present,” he tells me, his eyes full of hope. Suddenly I can’t help the utter joy that reveals itself on my lips. I take the hairpiece shaped like wings from his hand and study the craftsmanship Peter put into every feather. My hands trace the smooth lines of it until I find a button. I click it and the two wings separate from each other showing that there is a thin rod that is meant to go through my hair to keep the beautiful thing connected. Peter studies me closely, making sure that I like it.

“This is-” I whisper, too stunned by the gesture to speak at my normal volume. Listening only to the emotions in my heart I lean into Peter and press our lips together. My fingers run through his thick brown hair that is stiffer than usual because of the gel he must have put in. Peter immediately responds by grabbing my hips and pulling me closer to him so our chests are flush together. I disconnect from him slowly, my eyelashes fluttering open as I look up at him. “I love you, Peter Parker,” I whisper breathily. A thick blush spreads across his ivory skin.

“I love you too,” he smiles and presses his lips to mine again. His hands disconnect from my waist and he grabs the silver hairpiece from me. Clumsily, Peter begins trying to insert one of the wings into my bun. Laughing, I separate from him and guide his fingers with one of my hands. As soon as the first slides through the bun, he grabs the other piece and clicks them together. He looks at me with soft, kind eyes that make me feel like I’m glowing. His hands fall from my hair and land on my cheeks.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells me before pressing a kiss to my nose. I giggle, feeling as light as the feathers I conjured this morning. It only lasts a moment though because the very next second I feel as though something runs straight through my chest. I gasp and grab onto Peter’s forearms, relying on them completely to keep from falling to the cold ground. Peter stares down at me in complete shock as I gasp for air. Fire courses through every single one of my nerves, singeing the ends but I don’t become numbed by the excruciating pain. Instead, the hurt inside my chest grows worse and tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

“Y/N!” Peter shouts. “Baby, are-are you okay? What’s happening?” I shake my head and press a finger to my temple. A voice surges into my mind and screams at me, making me let a few salty tears fall from my bloodshot eyes.

“My balcony,” I mumble. “I need to go outside. Everything is hot.” Peter moves his head from side to side out of disagreement.

“No,” he retorts and looks down the hall. “We should get Strange so he can figure out-”

“Balcony first,” I hiss through the pain clouding my vision. “Then you get Strange but first just please I need to get outside. It’s all too hot. Too hot.” Peter sighs and gives in, dragging me to my room. As soon as Icarus sees me she flies up and into the air. Her caws don’t annoy me for once because I know she is just as frightened as me. I quickly use my strength to grab onto the little remote on my bed stand and click it. The frigid breeze that immediately flows in brings me little to no relief. Knowing what I need, I push away from Peter and fall into the snow.

“Y/N?” he whispers worriedly. I grab and a handful of snow and push it against my chest.

“You need to get Strange,” I remind him as I rub the white stuff all over my exposed skin.

“I can’t just leave you,” Peter asserts. I turn around and look him straight in the eyes. Beads of hot sweat roll down my skin, cooling me off as well. I offer Peter a weak smile.

“I’ll be okay,” I reassure him. “Just go get Strange.” Peter begrudgingly nods and sprints out of my room. A sense of dread fills up my inside though as I watch him disappear, leaving me alone. Well… not quite.

“He really does care about you.” I turn towards the voice slowly. Barely able to lift my head anymore I just glare at the light pink tulle.

“How did you get here so quick?” I ask Vera in a low voice. She stoops down so I don’t have to raise my head anymore. Her blue eyes are as cold us the air surrounding us and I have to work hard to keep from flinching at the sight of them.

“I wanted to check out your room,” she informs. “I’m surprised neither of you noticed I was here.” Vera lifts a hand to my cheek and I’m too weak to coil away from her unbelievably hot touch.

“I don’t remember seeing you for the first time,” I tell her, changing the subject to something far more important. “I can’t remember ever seeing you at school until the day you found me. I-I had always heard things but I never saw- never knew who was saying them. It was like there was always a voice in my head preparing to meet you.” Even though my words are unbelievably slurred Vera understands them and she smirks.

“You always were so smart Y/N.” Her voice distorts until it isn’t her’s anymore. She keeps her piercing eyes on me as a thin golden light runs across the expanse of her body and once the illusion has fallen I am face to face with my father. The burning red mark of the Dark Dimension tints my vision a soul-churning red but I keep my eyes connected with his. Even looking into his merciless eyes brings me immense pain.

“I should’ve known,” I curse myself internally. My father clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and rubs my cheek with his disgusting hand.

“No,” he tells me softly. “He made sure you wouldn’t.” I cock an eyebrow.

“How long were you working with Dormammu?” I ask my father, knowing there is no use in him keeping secrets anymore. My father smiles and drops all the way down to the snow so our eyes are completely level with each other.

“He came to me the moment you were conceived,” he tells me. “Dormammu guided me to find the proper tool and lace it with the time stone so that you could be given some of its power the moment you were born.” My dad grabs my hands that have been reddened by the cold and points to the symmetrical scars. “From there I trained you so that one day you could be his savior.” Acting purely on instinct I spit at the man in front of me. He stills for a second before flicking it off of his face.

“I refuse,” I growl at him, seething with pure and absolute rage. My father cocks his head to the side challengingly though and I fear what he will say next.

“But it has already begun.” My head drops at his words, settling into the snow and freezing. “A few moments ago both the London and Hong Kong sanctums were obliterated.” I stare in shock at him for a moment before turning towards where I know Strange’s sanctum is. For a full minute, I wait to witness the shield protecting the Earth fall, but nothing happens. “Would you really think that I was stupid enough to attack a Sanctum that is protected by the soon to be Sorcerer Supreme. The last zelics Dormammu trusted were far too hasty,” he scoffs and shakes his head.

“But-” I murmur, extremely confused by what he means. “There’s only three sanctums.” My dad chuckles and shakes his head. I’m paralyzed as he grips my jaw roughly and twists my head around until I’m facing where Queens is located.

“Agamotto was a powerful enough sorcerer to create the first three Sanctums to safeguard the world,” he replies, still keeping a firm grip on my face. “It would seem that there is another master of the mystical arts to create a fourth by accident.” I gape and continue staring at Queens even when my dad releases my face.

“Me,” I mumble. “But wouldn’t that mean you’d have to still take down all four sanctums. Dormammu still can’t come.” My dad nods and stares up at the sky, probably already imagining the arrival of his false god.

“Unless most of the power was transferred to weaken the New York sanctum enough for Dormammu to break through. It would take longer but there would be nothing that could be done to prevent it.” I bow my head, finally understanding what his plan is. “I know how painful it must be to finally realize that every step you had made only lead further to the destruction you and your leader so feared. If there was a possibility that I could’ve kept you at my side and still have succeeded then I would’ve.” I shake my head and chuckle, full of rage.

“You’re a piece of shit,” I announce. “You tortured me, abandoned me which you knew would make me create the sanctum, and then you put some of the magic of the New York sanctum within me. No,” I mumble. “You’re not a piece of shit. You’re a monster who’s going to kill his own daughter now to ensure Dormammu’s arrival.” My father stares sadly at me with furrowed brows.

“Who said anything about killing you?” he asks before standing tall. I watch in horror as he pulls a relic from his belt and points it at me. For a moment I believe that nothing will happen but then it shoots straight into my heart. I cry out in pure pain and lift my hands to my face. My veins have turned to the color of obsidian as whatever poison he just put in me flows through my body. “There is so much we still need from you sweetheart,” he reassures, still making sure that the weapon is secure in my chest.

“Please,” I mumble, losing consciousness as black spots cloud my vision. My father doesn’t listen though. Instead, he follows me when I try pushing away, pressing the relic further into me so that I fall back and into the snow. I try to push it away but every attempt I make is completely futile. Blood begins to leak around the thick metal and drips down my chest and into the snow, turning the powder a deep crimson shade. Soon enough the vision of my dad becomes so blurred I can’t make out the mark of the Dark Dimension. “Don’t take the stone. Please don’t hurt them.” I beg from the snowy ground. The cold ice nips at my exposed skin.

“It isn’t my place to take the stone from you,” he murmurs, concentrating on the task. “Dormammu will do that. I’m just here to destroy the magic of the sanctum we gave to you a few weeks back. And as for your friends…” he drones before yanking the relic out of me, making me scream from the horrible, soul-gnawing pain. “You do as Dormammu asks and he may just allow them to live.” I bawl as my dad leans down to my level and presses a kiss against my forehead. “I will see you soon,” he promises before disappearing.

“Help,” I mumble weakly, desperately holding on so that I don’t fall asleep. “Help. Help me. Please!” The more I plead the louder I become. Soon enough I’m shrieking for help with a hoarse voice. No one comes quick enough though and I hear the sound of Peter screaming for me the moment I fall into the deep abyss of sleep.


	24. Part Twenty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****** Mark the beginning and end of a dream/flashback

*******  
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” my father asks from behind me. His hand lands on my shoulder and I have to restrain myself from slapping him away from me. We both stare out at the entirety of Manhattan. Everything is in pure chaos. Buildings have collapsed, people cry out in horror, and far in the distance, I can make out the giant, shining silhouette of the being responsible. In short, the world- my world is on fire.

“I suppose.” My voice is numb and emotionless. Even in the depths of my usually raging, untamable soul, I am tired. Broken down and hopeless in more than a million ways. I bite onto my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and drop my eyes to the cracked soil. In my head I allow myself to wander, curious to discover what exactly lead to this.

“I just wanted to be a hero,” I mumble only loud enough for my dad to here. Even in the beginning- not the true beginning but the beginning in which I saved that young boy- I was always just doing what needed to be down for this plan to work. No matter how much I believed I was working to better myself I was always just walking down the path Dormammu intended for me, which would lead to the destruction I am seeing right in front of my eyes.

Suddenly my father grabs my chin turns me towards him so that we’re face to face. His harsh eyes tear me apart piece by piece until I am back to the writhing child that so weakly cowers beneath his feet. I clench my jaw and do my best to swallow down as much of my fear as possible. It’s a beacon though, a beacon that he is attracted to. I bite my tongue and avert my gaze as much as possible. My father’s grip is tight though and I’m forced to look at him when he squeezes my face harshly. I cry out and blink through stinging tears so that I can see him. It takes everything in me not to bawl for mercy as he cruelly shoves me away from him and towards the ground, disgust evident on his sharp features.

“We all expected so much more from you than this weak, pathetic thing.” I can’t help but choke at his words while I push myself off of the soil. My heart aches from that word. “Expected”. I thought I had beaten them. I thought I found a way to live above expectations but even now they hunt me like a pack of starved wolves yearning to survive. “When will you realize this single lesson Y/N? You are not the hero of this story. You are the Icarus. You yearned for the light and warmth the sun provided you with after never having seen it. Y/N, you were destined to fall at some point. We all are. This hope you harbor within yourself was just the catalyst to your own destruction.” I stare up at him in horror. His glare is harsh. Harsher than I could ever have remembered.

Abruptly, I feel I presence to my side and look over, already knowing what I will see. Tears slip from my eyes and down my cheeks as I stare pitifully at Dormammu who must have approached while my father was lecturing me. I shiver under the gaze of his bright purple eyes and bow my head. When I look down I’m met with the sight of a green cloud of smoke being sucked away from my body. Fearfully, I look up at Dormammu and back at the time stone remnants, realizing that he’s taking it away from me. Gasping, I try grabbing onto the remnants and pushing them back into my body. My fingers faze right through though and I can only sob as my energy is ripped away from me.

“Three days until Dormammu comes for us,” a bodiless voice whispers. “Three days to lose it all. Three days until you give up.”  
*****

I wake with a start, cold sweat coating my forehead as I bite my lip to stop my crying. My hands fly up to my face to wipe away the tears that had fallen from my raw eyes during the dream that seemed to last an eternity. Despite being out of the horrific nightmare I look around paranoidly to make sure my father isn’t here. I sigh from the relief of only being met with the empty lab of the base. Haphazardly I tear out the cords connecting me to a multitude of beeping machines and slip from the metal table.

Right away my legs buckle under me and I fall to the cold ground with a thud. My knees slam against the linoleum hard and I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out in pain. Achingly, I push myself up.

All I’m wearing is a crisp white shirt, my favorite cardigan, and leggings. Underneath I can feel the sting of my wound that has been covered with a stiff, cream-colored bandage. Subconsciously, I place a hand to the area over my heart, feeling around for the magical toll that was taken on my body when my father used the relic on me. Groaning I push open the door and stumble out of the lab to search for any of the Avengers. All of the sudden I fall forward just as I enter the living room, hitting my left shoulder on the hardwood and consequently announcing my presence to the entire base when I scream out. Rolling onto my back I pant from the pain and close my eyes.

“Shit,” a voice grumbles. I listen tiredly to the person’s footfalls as they race towards me. “Y/N, are you okay? What are you doing up?” Recognizing the voice as Steve’s I wearily open my eyes and look up at him.

“I’m fine,” I remark. While I push myself up Cap keeps his eyes locked on me to make sure there are no more injuries.

“You were stabbed in the heart Y/N.” I wave away his worries and stand. Glancing around the base I look back towards Steve.

“If it were serious I’d be dead. Now, where’s Strange?” I inquire. He rolls his eyes and gets up as well. I wait patiently when he opens his mouth, only to be interrupted by someone else.

“He’s at the Sanctum,” Tony declares from behind me. My heart sinks as I turn around. His eyes trace the lines of my body to see if I’ve inflicted any more damage upon myself during my fall. I can’t help but clumsily back into a wall, hoping it may provide me with some stability.

My thoughts have become a whirlwind. The zealots already destroyed all of the sanctums, the one I created included. Stephen is defending his sanctum, leaving me with no mystical back up while I’m still weak from my father’s attack. Running my hands through my hair I shake my head, becoming completely inconsolable. Despite the haze of red building up over my sight, I can see the other heroes gathering in the living room. They stare unsurely as my panic attack progresses. Soon enough I have slipped down to the floor.

“How long?” I ask through my heavy sobs. Tony crouches down to my level so that he can look into my eyes. “How long have I been asleep?” I peek up at Tony through the curtain of tears that have fallen in front of my face. I watch hopelessly as Tony looks away, blatantly biting the inside of his cheek. Desperate for answers I reach out and grab his forearm. He gazes back at me hesitantly, an invisible weight hanging on his shoulders. In my mind, I can hear the murmuring of the bodiless voice from my dream.

“Three days until Dormammu comes for us.”

“Three days,” Tony finally answer. All the air in my lungs is abruptly sucked away from me, causing me to gasp. I’m at a complete loss for words as I try to catch my breath. Standing abruptly and ignoring the immediate head rush I suffer from, I walk towards the window. Tears still fall from my reddened orbs while I close my eyes and reach out.

Right away I appear in the foyer of Stephen’s sanctum. At least my conscious does. I twirl around wildly until I meet his eyes which glare right at me. Sighing, I rush towards him.

“Y/N, why are you-”

“Stephen, please listen,” I beg. “You need to come back to the base. Please, please, please come home.” While slurring my words Strange gently grabs onto my shoulders. He guides me backward slowly, probably realizing by now that this is only a mirage of myself and nothing more.

“I need to protect the Sanctum Sanctorum Y/N. Without it, the shield around the Earth will fall and Dormammu will arrive. You’re safe at the base,” he informs me. I shake my wildly, determined to show Stephen he’s wrong.

“No, no Strange. They already destroyed it. The zealots moved it to me and when my father…” subconsciously I touch a hand to my heart, conveying my meaning by pointing out the cut, “the sanctums are destroyed and now Dormammu’s coming for me. Strange you need to come home and you need to help us. He’s going to take the stone. He’s going to remove any chance of you being able to beat him again.” I see the horror progressively settle into Stephen’s eyes as he understands that he was protecting the thing this entire time.

I sigh, completely relieved, when Strange raises his hand to finally utilize his sling ring. Shocking the both of us a thick, clear arrow flies straight past us before he can enter, subsequently ruining Stephen’s focus and the portal. We turn around simultaneously to be met with at least a dozen zealots who are all crafting the biggest bomb I’ve ever seen. Strange and I look on in terror as my father, who Stephen has not yet had to pleasure of meeting, steps forward, his wicked smile on display.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, shaking his head in disappointment. Without a second thought, I step towards Strange who glares at the man angrily.

“You have no right to call me that,” I growl, faking strength. “Why are you here? All the sanctums were already destroyed.” His smile grows wider and I feel myself visibly shrink at the sight of it. Strange must notice because his gloved hand finds my back.

“A lesson such as this one needs to be taught.” I swallow down my fear and narrow my eyes. Behind my dad, I can make out how the other zealots are preparing to drop the bomb.

“And that is?” I wonder, my voice overflowing with fear. I keep my eyes locked on my father though as creates a portal by his back and steps backward.

“Nothing is eternal.” The moment he and the portal disappears, the zealots drop their weapon. Acting purely on impulse, I swing my body around Stephen’s, covering him as much as I can from the blast that comes far too quick to be prevented. Right when the heat licks my back my conscious is shot back to my physical body though. The very second I realize what just happened a choked sob is released from my tight throat. My eyes look at my quaking hands, hoping that Stephen may just appear in my arms if I believe it enough but nothing happens. He doesn’t return to my arms. He’s gone.

“No,” I begin crying again. “Nononono. Stephen please. You can’t be gone.” Falling to the ground I think of all of the things I could’ve done differently so that the Sorcerer Supreme lived. There is so much. Even the smallest step may have lead to the survival of Doctor Strange. He’s gone now though and I can barely bring myself to look out of the window and towards my old apartment where I can see the dark dimension ripple open in the Earth’s atmosphere. I listen as the heroes around me try asking what the hell is going on but I feel too ruined by my own tears to answer any of them.

“Stephen,” I whimper into my hands, “You can’t have gone yet. I can’t do this without you. I don’t know how to be a hero. I don’t know how to save anyone. My-my magic. I can’t - please, please, please, please come home….”

At the edge of the base where Stephen’s shield has just fallen dozens of golden portals open letting loose Dormammu’s minions. I bow my head knowing that I have lost. From the moment I was born this was destined to happen. However hard I tried to be the hero, to prevent the monster I always felt within myself from rising, I was always destined for this. I lift my head sullenly and look at and upon the zealots. Even though I recognize one of the spells that is being conjured I don’t bother fighting it. All I can do is watch as a wave of magic is produced from the zealot’s hand, approaching the base quickly. I close my eyes when it hits, dreariness curling through my entire body to guide me to sleep.

_____________

My eyes blink open slowly, the image of destruction fading from my vision until I can only see the setting sun which ushers any warmth remaining in the world away from us. I groan and turn around slowly. The second I do I have to choke down a scream. Luckily it is reduced to a small whimper that doesn’t shock the zealots in the base. I stare at each of the Avengers around me, all of which have been placed in some sort of cocoons that seem to be made of black tar. The closest to me is Tony whose barely begun getting wrapped up in the zealots magic. Gulping down my fear I look around the base to try and figure out an escape route. Everything is guarded though and my best bet is the sling ring I pray is still in my cardigan pocket.

Slowly as to not alarm any of the sorcerers, I reach into my pocket. I breathe a deep sigh of relief when I find the familiar cold metal tucked inside of the fabric. Pulling it out I glance around to make sure no one is watching me. When my eyes move sadly towards Tony again I find his glasses laying pathetically next to his head. Feeling that Friday may be helpful I quickly pull them onto my face but my eyes stay locked on Tony’s unconscious body.

“I promise I’ll do anything to save you,” I reassure him despite knowing that he won’t remember the vow.

“She’s up,” a voice suddenly announces. I groan knowing my time is up and hastily create a portal beneath me. Before they can even come towards me I fall through and onto my bed. Golden sparks fall onto my face as I slam the portal shut.

“Friday?” I mumble tiredly. The orange glasses blink to life all of sudden and I can’t help but smile.

“Y/N it appears the base is under attack,” she remarks. “Should I contact anyone for assistance.” I shake my head.

“No,” I grumble while pushing myself up. “We can’t drag anyone else into this. Anyways,” I look out my window and at the darkening horizon, “I don’t think there’s anyone who can help.” There’s a moment of silence as I stare up and all of the destruction. If the window was open I may be able to hear people screaming. I wonder what they’re thinking right now. I wonder if they’re hoping I’ll come and save them all. I wonder if they’re hoping Doctor Strange will save them all.

“What would you like me to do Y/N?” Friday asks softly. Despite her only being an AI she must be able to detect the rate at which my heart is beating, telling her to be patient with me.

“Pull up all live footage from the entire base on wall please,” I announce. She obliges while I push Tony’s glass up so that they’re resting on top of my head. I glare at the wall when I see the number of sorcerers guarding any entries, exits and even hallways in the entire base. Sighing, I look down at my sling ring. Everywhere I could’ve gone is out of the question now. The sanctums are destroyed, the base is under attack and even my apartment is demolished. I have nowhere to escape to.

Then my eyes land on one of the doors into the base. I watch in complete horror as Peter lands and shoots a web at the zealot standing in front of the entrance. My hands automatically fly upwards and before I can even process what I myself am doing a portal opens up right in front of Peter before he could possibly alert the entire base to his presence. He falls through and lands against me, still panting from the short fight. Feeling relieved I hug him into me, stuffing my face into his red suit to have as much contact with him as I can.

“Oh my god Peter,” I whisper before pulling away. “A-are you okay? You didn’t get hurt right. W-what about May? May’s alright, right? God Peter, why did you come here? You’re gonna get yourself killed.” My boyfriend pulls away from me, rips off his mask and looks into my eyes, just now realizing that it’s me who’s holding him.

“I came when I saw your apartment turn into a wormhole, Y/N. May had work today. What’s going on? Where is everyone else?” I shake my head and embrace him again, still surprised that he’s here. That I still have him. Just from that thought alone, I kiss him, so content with his presence alone that I could get lost in it. I push away from him and look over to my wall.

“Dormammu has arrived,” I mumble, not removing my eyes from the screen to look at Peter. His frightened orbs have found the live footage though and he can barely muster his breathing to start again when he sees the zealots imprisoning the Avengers. We stand side by side, gaping at the ruin I have inflicted upon our world by only being alive. My hand finds Peter’s so that I can hold it close to me.

“What can we do?” Peter wonders. However much I want to give him an answer, positive or not, I can’t mutter any words. All I can do is stare sadly as that last cocoon is finished. Finally, I open my mouth to speak, only to be interrupted right away.

“Y/N sweetheart, why are you hiding?” Although his voice is as sweet as honey I recognize the sharp edge in it and it’s nearly enough to make me keel over. Peter is the first to turn around but I have to take a moment to compose myself before I looking my father in the eye. Automatically, Peter pulls me close to him, not needing anymore context to know that the man in front of us is my father.

“You’ve already won,” I claim while subtly flicking my wrist, creating a sharp, blue disk in my right hand. My father scoffs and shakes his head.

“You really think I’m that dumb Y/N? After teaching you everything you know?” he chuckles. I narrow my eyes back at him, knowing that what he just said is false. I surpassed him by the time I was seven and the only reason I would consider him a formidable opponent now is because of the dark dimension. All of the sudden the world shakes beneath our feet and I look out and towards the horizon. My jaw drops when I see thousands if not millions of corrupted zealots fly out of the growing dark dimension and into our world. Swallowing hard I squeeze Peter’s hand.

“Why go through all this trouble involving me?” I ask.

“You’re magic is like nothing Dormammu has ever seen,” he responds without a moment’s hesitation. I glower at him.

“My magic which was given to me because of the time stone.”

“Your magic which enhanced the time stone,” he corrects. I do my best not to let my intrigue show but my dad sees the interest blooming in my irises and takes it as his cue to continue. “You are not the first to harbor an infinity stone within you body Y/N. There have been others who possessed an entire stone inside of themselves yet gained no powers from it. You had untapped magic in you from the moment you were born. Not just from your Asgardian heritage either. Your magic was a gift from destiny itself and by fusing the time stone with it you were able to gain full access to its powers.”

I listen attentively, trying to comprehend what this all means. If what my dad says is true, I have powers that allowed me to use the time stone, not the other way around. Consciously, I look down at my shaking hands where I’m still tightly holding onto my conjured weapon.

“Why give this to me?” I wonder again, lifting my hands upwards to show them to all three of us.

“Your mentor is dead,” he confirms. My heart clenches in my chest and I have to grit my teeth together to compel my rising tears not to fall. “You’re the last thing that stands between Dormammu and the possession of this world.” I study him for a moment, knowing in my heart and soul that there is so, so much more he is refusing to tell me.

“Why not kill me now then?” I spit. “That would make this all so much easier.”

“Y/N, please,” Peter whispers next to me. I tighten my grip on his hand again as reassurances, hopefully informing him that he can trust me.

“Because Dormammu sees you worth keeping alive. Having your natural affinity for magic as well as the time stone remnants in his possession would be helpful in taking more worlds into his sanctuary,” he pauses, weighing his next words carefully. “And there is still a deal he must fulfill with me.” At this, my eyes hollow and my vision blurs. The world shakes again and I doubt that it is because of another wave of zealots entering the atmosphere.

“What did you do? What the hell kind of deal did you make?” I hiss at him, forcing myself to remain restrained so I don’t tear off my dad’s face. Peter’s fingers tighten around my own, probably feeling that if he doesn’t keep a hold of me I may just kill the monster in front of us the second I get a chance. Despite my seething rage, my dad smiles, content as well as sadness completely palpable in his soft expression.

“The happy kind,” he answers before raising his relic at Peter and I. “Before we get to that though… I have a job to finish.” Before his fingers even tighten on his relic completely, my hand flies upwards and over Peter’s chest. We’re both frozen as the sharp weapon hurtles towards his body as I begin conjuring a shield to protect Peter as much as possible. Moments before the forcefield is nearly closed the relic’s point slips past, slamming into the middle of my sling ring. I yelp and pull my hand away quickly. A burning sensation splinters across the skin under the metal so I drop it into my other hand.

“Shit,” I whisper as I watch as the shape of the metal distorts until it has turned to dust in my palm. Swallowing down my fear I shove my hand into my pocket and let go of the glittering powder. Quickly, I look from my smirking father to Peter. Grabbing his hand again I allow the intensity to show through my once calm and collected facade.

“A good piece of advice,” I begin telling Peter while collecting as much magic within myself as possible, “do not let go of me.” Before Peter can respond I flash us out of my room and into the hallway. On either side of us is a zealot. The second before they can do anything I spin away from Peter and fling both neon blue discs away from me. They bounce against the walls wildly, my hands simultaneously controlling their motion as I sprint towards one of them. On my command, one flies into my hands. Not wanting to prolong this too much I run onto the side of the wall and fall back to the ground right behind the zealot. I quickly slam the disk into the back of their calf causing them to gasp before ripping it from their body and throwing it backward. By the loud grunt, I can tell that it must’ve hit its target.

I turn slowly from the collapsed body in front of me who is wincing from the injury I just inflicted upon them. For a moment I study the cut to make sure I didn’t hit anything that was too important and may cause her to bleed out. Sighing, I turn towards Peter who is crouched next to the young man I hit without even looking. I glance over him as well and by the looks of it, his injuries are not at all serious.

“Let’s go,” I assert to Peter and grab onto his bicep. He stands slowly and looks right into my eyes. I’m surprised to see admiration and amazement glowing in the warm brown of his irises.

“I didn’t think you could do that?” Peter beams a bit.

“I’ve never needed to,” I inform him quickly. When I hear the door to my room open I grab onto his hand and immediately break into a sprint. As we go my blue disks fly around the room, nicking zealots just enough to make them slow down or at most stop following us. All of the sudden Peter skids to a halt and I’m yanked backward. It takes me a moment to realize we’ve stopped. In front of me are all the different cocoons containing our heroes. I gulp down my guilt for just leaving them.

“We need to go, Peter,” I tell him shakily. His head suddenly snaps to the side to look at me, his admiration quickly turning into disappointment.

“What?” he questions, his voice faltering from shock. I grimace and turn towards the hallway where dozens of zealots are now approaching us.

“We can’t save them right now Peter,” I mumble guiltily while putting a half-assed shield around us. For now, it should protect us while I attempt explaining this entire situation to Peter. He furrows his brows at me and shoves me away.

“So that’s it!?” he shouts while throwing his hands up into the air. “You’re just going to fucking abandon everyone and go back to running?” Although I know his words are all just rooting from his fear the question is like a knife to the heart. Instead of letting the brave and confident facade fall though I stomp towards Peter and get close enough to him so that we’re eye to eye.

“I am not abandoning anyone,” I growl lowly, making the assertiveness in Peter’s eyes falter. “What I am doing, is buying us more time which we are tremendously lacking in so that we can come back and save all of their asses without getting killed or worse. Don’t ever- and I mean ever tell me I’m abandoning them Peter because I would run past my shield right now and attack every last zealot but I can’t.” I take this moment to pause and breath, barely glancing back to see that they have begun breaking through my force field. “Peter… I can’t do this without any sort of mystical backup and Strange-” My voice cracks suddenly. In a sad attempt to repair the break I wrap one of my free arms around my midsection.

“What happened to Strange?” Peter asks, seemingly frightened by the way my brave illusion so easily faltered at the mention of my mentor.

“He’s gone,” I confess weakly. “We are going to do everything we can to save them, Peter, because I love them all so, so much and the thought of losing anyone including you tears me apart. Luckily though, if Dormammu is as smart as I think he is, Tony, and Nat, and Cap and everyone will be kept alive because of that reason. That is only if we stay out of his grasp though and as much as I hate this, the only choice we have is running. We have to run until we somehow manage to escape their grasp and then we keep running until we find sorcerers who can help. All I ask of you is to trust me.” Extending my hand to Peter I pray that he takes it. For a moment he looks at my palm and then at one of the cocoons that’s closest to us.

“Please Peter,” I plead to him. “I can’t do this without you.” Finally, Peter turns back towards me, a calm look filling up his eyes. Confidently, he places his head in mine before yanking me towards him, pressing his lips into mine. We separate quickly, knowing that there’s no time to spare.

“I trust you Y/N,” he reassures me. I grin up at him and tighten my grip on my hand. “Now, where are we running to?” Slowly, I turn from Peter and look down the hall adjacent to us where Strange’s room is located. Remembering the cold blue hallway that I had fallen into an idea bursts into my mind and I twirl back towards Peter who is glaring at the zealots with a passion I’ve never seen before.

“Spidey,” I breath out, calling his attention back to me. With a quick and short glance, I look back at where the zealots are breaking through and automatically make eye contact with my father. He stares down at me a bit, making me feel small. Swallowing down the bitter taste in my mouth I turn away from him before it’s impossible and begin dragging Peter behind me. My blue blades come to life again and dive behind my head and towards the zealots so that we can escape in one piece.

The moment we reach Stephen’s room I swing the door open and both Peter and I dive inside. I don’t even hesitate for a moment, pulling Peter into what seems to be an infinite tunnel of blue, swirling lights. As we sprint my thoughts vacillate between the mind gnawing cold that has begun to spread through every nerve in my body, the hoard of zealots shouting for us and the feeling of Peter’s gloved hand in my own, constantly squeezing my fingers to make sure I haven’t gone anywhere. Soon enough my legs have begun burning and I almost feel the need to collapse onto the ground. Every time I fall back a bit Peter’s there to tug me forward though. My pants light up in the cold blue air, making it seem like I’m breathing fire. At some point, my vision goes blurry and I start getting hypnotized by the movement of the neon lights surrounding me as they begin spinning.

The wires combine into one though, creating a giant portal for Peter and me to enter a few hundred yards from us. Despite the angry fire within each of my limbs I run faster than I ever have, somehow managing to pass Peter in the process. Just when I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief I hear an odd whirring behind us. I take a quick peek to see the source of the noise and find myself stifling a groan of annoyance when I realize what’s happening.

Approaching us at an unbelievably fast rate are two dozen miniature bombs which were created to probably blow the portal apart before Peter and I could make it through. Acting hurriedly, I lift Peter’s wrist to my face and tear off the web shoot, earning myself a moan of disapproval from the Spiderman. Instead of apologizing though I shoot a web into the portal and whip around. Peter yelps because of the sudden change of direction and he barely gets to realize that we’re heading straight for the zealots when I hug him into my chest and flip the hallway, manipulating reality for the first time in six years with little to no effort.

In mere moments Peter and I are hanging from wherever the portal leads while the zealots and their bombs are still trying to comprehend what just happened. Smiling to myself I click a button on the side of Peter’s web shooters. We rush upwards through the cold air, our feet aimlessly dangling before gravity shifts again and we’re tossed through the portal and to safety… wherever that may be.


	25. Part Twenty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long hiatus everyone. I hit a bit of a rough patch and fell out of writing for a long time but I'm glad to be back now.

Peter and I remain on the ground for a moment, catching our breaths and doing our best to shrug off the mind gnawing cold that surrounded us in the portal. My legs and arms ache, my head pounds, and cuts I hadn’t even realized existed until now are dripping blood onto the polished oak below. I groan weakly, pushing myself off the ground with what little energy I still have in my being. To my left is Peter who has rolled over onto his back to try and alleviate some of the pain from going through the portal. Both of us are panting, the adrenaline that once filled our veins becoming a memory.

“Are you okay?” I ask. Peter opens his eyes for a moment only to close them the same second. His face scrunches up, making his eyelids disappear and turn into two thin lines of lashes to better block out the light.

At the mere sight of it, I can’t help the pleasant smile that touches my lips. The corners of my mouth are tugged up a centimeter as I watch Peter press both hands to his tightly shut eyes, seemingly thinking that will make the pain any more distant.

“I feel like someone put my brain in a blender,” he informs blatantly. A chuckle is pulled right past my lips and I nod. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Peter peeking through his fingers and lashes to catch a glimpse of me.

I grab his hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “You’ll get used to it after a few years.” Peter releases my hand to try and massage away his headache.

“Magic?”

“Nope,” I reply while standing, Peter extending his hand toward so that I can help him.“The bullshit that comes with it.” No one ever gets used to magic. We now stand side by side, our eyes looking around curiously. I study the hall tables, covered in old relics that have gone unused for decades, axes and swords hanging from the walls, their bodies engraved with different spells to ensure their safety, and old intricately barred windows through which I can see stars.

“Where are we?” he wonders out loud. I shrug and take another look, twirling all the around this time to get the full picture Behind me is a plane wall that has been marked up with an intricate sigil. One that I barely remember reading in my books. To the right is a dim hallway, only lit with light bulbs that continuously flicker. At the end seems to be three separate doors that all lead to completely different places around the world. Finally, I look to my left and see the corridor leads to some sort of library.

Without saying a word, I start traveling down the hall. I listen to Peter’s faint footfalls behind me to make sure he’s following as I lead the way. As we get close to the room the hall becomes brighter and I can begin making out the finer details: bubbling wallpaper from decade-old water damage, scratches on the floor from dragged furniture, exposed wires sticking out of lamps, peeling paint on withered trim. All things that may have been ignored before I stepped in here.

Peter and I reach the large room and I look around even more, taking in all that I can. Natural light shines through the large, circular window adjacent to us, warming both mine and Peter’s aching bodies. I bask in the content it brings me for a moment. Deep in the back of my mind, I wish I could etch the memory of the sunlight into my skin permanently so that I can never forget it again.

Then Peter’s calling for me. His voice, a muffled shout as I wince and look up. I realize the ceiling has fallen away from me just as the floor quickly approached. My eyes blink hard and I feel the ground below, trying my best to remember how I got here.

“God,” Peter mumbles while grabbing both my wrists and lifting me up. “Are you okay? Y/N are you- did something happen? Can you get up.” I nod feebly in acknowledgment. Once I’ve been firmly placed back on my feet I exhale deeply and begin walking again.

I observe a quick path to a stairway just outside the room but before I can even turn Peter slides in front of me. “Woah, woah, woah, Y/N.” He places a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to guide me somewhere to rest but my feet remain stubbornly planted into the oak planks. “You just passed out. Maybe take a second.”

“No.” I shake my head. “The quicker we find other sorcerers the quicker we can save everyone. We gotta focus.” Peter’s hands slip from my arms unsurely before stopping to land over my head. He keeps it there to make sure he can at least catch me as a look of defeat passes over his face.

“Okay just-,” he begins, “just take it slow.” I smile and nod again.

We walk together this time. At least until we reach the balcony.

Looking at the foyer everything in me goes numb. My hand slips from Peter’s grasp and lands against my thigh. The air settles deep into my lungs, refusing to leave like an insolent child not wanting to leave their friend’s house.

I start ambling towards the staircase. Afraid that if I’m not anchored in any way I may begin floating upwards until I’m irretrievable, one foot is always firmly stuck to the floor. Then when I’m going down the stairs my hand is wrapped tightly around the banister. If I hold on any tighter my knuckles may split through the paling skin.

By the time I’ve reached the foyer my thoughts are racing at a mile a minute. This is the foyer of the New York Sanctum. That should be impossible though. I felt it go up in flames. I felt the mind warping heat burst across my cheeks as my consciousness was sent spiraling back into my panicking body. I felt Stephen burn.

I feel as though a hard punch has just knocked the air from my lungs. A struggled gasp crawls out of my contracted throat. Peter quickly runs to my side before I can pass out again.

My hands shake and my head throbs and my soul does both. I feel the flames lick at my cheeks, my stomach, my toes, my neck. I feel myself throw my body in front of my mentor. The way the air shrieks in protest is the only thing I can hear now. That and the last startled, fearful breath Stephen lets out before I’m tossed back into my reality.

Suddenly, I’m hyperventilating. I feel like I’m drowning. Like a boulder is tied to my chest and I’m sinking further and further, nearing closer to the dangers of guilt and anger and grief that lay on the seabed like boiling tar. Trying to calm myself I think of the sun. The warmth. The light. I feel it wrapping around my limbs, warming every inch of my skin and lifting me into the blue sky. But the warmth turns to fire too and I’m falling again. Falling and sinking and hyperventilating and thinking more than I ever have.

“Y/N!” a voice calls, but it’s not Peter’s. It’s a memory now. That’s all it possibly can be. A hurtfully palpable memory still so fresh in my mind. Everything is fresh as I near the bottom though. Everything is a raw recollection that I can’t bare.

The voice keeps calling though, sounding more and more real everytime. More haunting. It takes me a moment to realize I’m screaming. To feel all the air I’m pushing out of my mouth tear the skin of my trachea apart. His voice is persistent though, and soon enough it’s turned to all of their voices. They’ve become a chorus of my guilt. Some are nameless and some have too many names. All the things I’ve abandoned. Through the horror, I manage to wonder if my father hears me calling his name. Screaming at him like some unholy monster who wants to know why.

“Y/N,” his voice breaks through the chorus in my head. I slam my hands over my ears to block them out but they’re still there, persistent as guilt should be. “Y/N, I’m here,” his ghost tries. “I’m right- I’m right here! I’m here. Just stop screaming.”

I shake my head and tuck it between my knees. There faces race in front of me, slowly morphing into one hideous, demonic creature I tremble in front. Go away. I think to myself and hopefully to them. He’s still calling my name though, saying it like a mantra over and over and over again. Go Away. I try again. This time the voice in my head is stern. He doesn’t hear though. He’s just going and going and going going going going. GO AWAY.

But he’s there still. I feel his hands on my cheeks now. I feel the lines of scars pressing into my skin. So real. Too real. Go away. I plead lightly. “Y/N!” Go Away. “Open your eyes!”

“GO AWAY!” I scream. My eyes snap up, fire and rage stirring in them like a hurricane of destruction. I expect to be met with the face of the horrid demon, a living symbol of all the guilt I feel weighing down on my soul.

But I’m not.

I’m met with soft greens, peaceful blues, and a yellow as warm as the sun. I stare at them, completely stunned by the image in front of me for a whole minute. Then my focus floats to the dark hair with two perfect streaks of grey on each side of his head, the short trimmed goatee, and the faint scars drawn on his skin.

“Strange,” I whisper. My throat throbs and I can swear the taste of metallic is dripping onto my tongue. He smiles down at me softly. Almost to further affirm the fact that he is kneeling right in front of me he presses his fingertips into my cheeks.

“I’m here,” he sighs contently. Joy stirs up somewhere distant inside of me. Absolute relief. Stephen is alive. My mentor is okay. I can hear him. I can feel him. With that happiness, something else arrives too though. Rage. Pure, merciless, blood-boiling rage that makes me push away from him. Both him and Peter, who must have been asked to step away while Strange tried to help me, look up at my quaking figure worriedly.

I can feel my feel my heartbeat in my fingertips, my feet, and my head. My entire being is pulsating at an incomprehensible rate. Thunder erupts in my ears and it isn’t coming from outside.

“You.” I point accusingly at Stephen, who has opted to stand for the coming storm. “You goddamn fucking asshole,” I hiss. Before I have time to think or even understand what I’m doing I’m stomping towards him. Instead of turning tail and running Stephen waits for me patiently and it’s that that throws me over the edge. His calm. It’s everything I’m not and I hate him for it right now.

When I reach him my fist slam into his chest angrily. None of my moves are coordinated. I punch and slap and kick and scream. I scream for a reason. For some sort of explanation. Stephen doesn’t do as I command though. He just takes it. He takes every once of anger and dispels it into the air until there is no memory of it. As I keep going more and more of my frustrations leave and soon enough it’s all gone.

But it has been replaced with everything else; relief, fear, grief, joy, love, hatred, emptiness. Everything I felt the past week flows through me now. My fists unravel to allow my hands to coil themselves around Stephen’s thick tunic. In return, his arms curl around my trembling torso and start to coax away they short, heavy breaths that make my body tremor. I press my face into his chest, smearing snot and tears and maybe even blood while my legs go limp. Stephen still holds me though, not allowing me to fall into a heap on the ground.

“You were supposed to be there,” I sob, whimper, blame. “I-I believed you would be there Stephen. You promised you would. Why-Why weren’t you there? I needed you.” Stephen’s arms immediately tighten. I feel the bottom of his chin rest on my head, somehow bringing more comfort to me.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispers to me and I can feel his throat vibrate. “I’m so, so sorry.” But he doesn’t make any more promises.


	26. Part Twenty-Five

Gently, I tilt the mug in my hand back and forth, making the hot green liquid twirl. The string holding onto the bag of leaves inside is wrapped around my fingers, tightening and loosening consistently. Without much thought, I take control of the steam rising from the porcelain and start making intricate designs with it. Next to me, Peter is carefully holding my free hand to ensure that I don’t experience any more pain.

  
During our escape, when I used Peter’s web shooter, a ligament in my wrist tore, preventing me from moving it as much as I would like. That’s one of five things Stephen identified that I was suffering from. The others being a twisted ankle, a bruised diaphragm which has caused bruising on some of my upper torso, a concussion, and a fractured collar. Three of those were consequences of being tossed through the portal at thirty or more miles per hour and landing hard. The other was caused by the spell the zealots used when they arrived at the base. Strange explained that the only reason I hadn’t experienced pain sooner was because of all the magic flowing through me.

  
Strange’s cloak has draped itself across my shoulders, acting as a guardian for me against the thousands of zealots who wait beyond the bulwark the relic’s master has created. It has also turned itself into a sling for me while Stephen tries finding me something else to keep my collarbone from becoming even more troublesome. Before I’m able to lift the mug to my lips on my own, the Cloak of Levitation wraps one of its corners around the handle and raises it to my lips. I chuckle lightly, fearing to much laughter may cause more pain in my abdomen, and accept the gesture.  
“Thank you,” I say after taking a small sip of the tea. It slips down my throat smoothly, bringing relief where there used to be pain.

  
“How,” Peter begins shaking his head in disbelief, “did you manage to get this hurt.

  
“Believe it or not, when you don’t have an increased healing rate on your side you tend to procure a lot more injuries,” I retort without swiveling my head to look at him.

  
“I got that but this,” he drones, “seems like a little much, don’t you think?” I shrug and wince, the movement causing a sharp pain to shoot through my chest. Peter stops wrapping the elastic bandage around my wrist, his eyes scanning every inch of my collarbone to make sure I didn’t make the fracture worse. 

  
“Don’t worry Peter,” I reassure. “I’ve been through worse.”

  
“I know you think that makes this better,” Peter states and goes back to tending to my sprained wrist, “but it really doesn’t.” While he’s pulling the bandage around my thumb I steal a peek at him. Peter’s hair, which is usually combed neatly, has turned wavy atop his head and strands have fallen over his eyes. For the first time, I see how rigid he is, like he’s on constant alert. The hairs on his arms a standing straight up, always reminding him of the dangers outside.

  
“Sorry,” I mumble, averting my eyes from him before he can look up at me. For a second I can feel Peter’s warm brown orbs on the side of my face, trying desperately to see through me, to see through the fog that’s filling me up. His eyes drop though, telling me that he can’t read me right now.

  
“Here,” Stephen suddenly announces as he enters the living room. In his hands, he’s holding a black sling and a pill bottle. When he’s close enough I read the label. Opioids.

  
“I’m not taking those,” I assert. Stephen ignores me though and shoos the cloak away. Although it releases my arm it still remains on my shoulders, keeping its position as my guardian. I glare on as Strange gently pulls the sling around my arm and shoulder and straps the two ends together. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the slight shaking of his fingers even as he works so diligently.

  
“You need to,” he finally replies. His voice is patient as are his eyes. “They help with the pain, Y/N.” I scoff and shake my head. All three of us are silent a moment, the air becoming thick with anxiety and frustration.

  
“How’d you do it?” I whisper, changing the subject. “How’d you trick everyone?”

  
“I didn’t mean to,” he tries.

  
“Sure,” I hiss back. “You just accidentally made me believe you were dead.” Strange bites the inside of his mouth and steps backward. Maintaining eye contact, he takes a seat in an old yellow chair that has been marked with black ink stains.

  
“However hard it may be to believe, that is the truth.” He leans forward a bit. “You didn’t see it all, Y/N, but you’re the reason I am okay.” I say nothing in return. “When your consciousness went to protect me it gave me enough time to use the time stone by acting as a shield.” Suddenly, something hums inside of me. I feel a pulse of energy race through every nerve in my body, like the mention of an infinity gem has filled me up with magic.

  
“That doesn’t make sense,” I reason. “If you used the time stone to reverse what happened to the Sanctum doesn’t that mean you would’ve bought more time for us too.” I look to Peter who seems to be thinking just as hard as I am about the situation. “It would've turned back the clock on everything if you used it all of the sudden like that.”

  
“Well I did something to,” he moves his head side to side, debating internally on how to phrase his next words, “enhance the spell.”

  
“Strange?” I grumble.

  
“It wasn’t anything that would ruin the space-time continuum hopefully,” he explains.

  
“Hopefully?”

  
“All I did was combine the spell that summons the mirror dimension and the spell that reverses time to save the Sanctum and send the zealots away. You don’t need to worry.”

  
For a moment I’m at a loss for words. My brain tries to reason, tries to explain why that can’t happen. It goes from place to place, summoning up information from old books my father had me read until they were branded into my mind. I open my mouth to say something to refute his claim but no words come out so I shut my mouth and swallow.

  
“That’s possible?” I say quietly, more curious than ever about magic. In front of me, Stephen shrugs smugly, a proud smile plastered to his face.

  
“There’s a reason I’m in line to be Sorcerer Supreme, Y/N.” I scoff again, only this time it doesn’t hold the same venom as before.

  
“But then-” Logic stirs up a mess in my mind again.

  
“Then it should have targeted all the zealots and sent them to the mirror dimension,” Strange finishes and I nod in agreement. “I could only use it at a small scale before passing out. That’s why I didn’t come help you two. Even when I was retaining a little consciousness I could barely manage to cast a good illusion on the Sanctum.”

  
“How much energy did you have to harness?” I ask curiously. Again, the Cloak of Levitation lifts the steaming mug to my face so that I can take another sip.

  
“Most of the energy in an entire dimension.” I choke on my tea right away, making the liquid burn more than heal. Pain shoots straight through my diaphragm and sternum. The bruises and cuts ache and all I can do is groan at the intense pain. Tears rim my eyes that have begun burning just as much as everything else.

  
“Y/N,” Peter calls before hastily giving every injury a once over. “Are you okay?” he asks, fear edging his voice. I nod and sit back up, directing my attention to Strange.

  
“You have got to be the biggest idiot ever,” I growl in a raspy voice. “That could’ve killed you.” Stephen doesn’t retort though. His attention is on my pain just as much as Peter’s is. I catch the way his hand instinctively goes to grab the narcotics. Flicking my wrist despite the pain, I send the bottle shooting across the room. It smacks right into a wall and little blue and white capsules go flying.

  
“No,” I reassert to him. Stephen doesn’t look at the pills. The only evidence he needs to know that they have been scattered all over the floor is the sound of them rolling around. His eyes stay on me, resembling the same look he had to the first time we met. Annoyance and fatigue all wrapped up in his calm irises.

  
“Peter,” he says. Next to me, Peter’s head reluctantly turns away from my stiff body and towards the sorcerer across from us. “Could you start running a bath for Y/N?” Peter looks from Stephen to me and then back to him before nodding. His presence on the couch suddenly disappears when he stands and walks down the hall.

  
“I can’t take those, Stephen.” My mentor rolls his eyes and gets up. His tall figure trudges towards the pills so that he can start picking them up.

  
“Can’t or won’t?” he wonders calmly.

  
“Can’t,” I declare confidently. He turns towards me just enough to make eye contact.

  
“Why?” he continues. I hiss to myself, wishing that he’d just accept what I’m saying. Although he doesn’t use his words to push any further I can feel his persistence in the air, floating around like some sort of disease.

  
“Because I need to be able to fight.” Stephen chuckles while walking back towards his chair, the pill bottle in his scarred hand again. One of his eyebrows is raised out of immature amusement that makes anger boil in my throat.

  
“Fight?” he questions. “You think you’re going to be able to fight better by not taking medicine?” I roll my eyes and look away.

  
“I think they’ll make me weaker,” I tell him, my voice purely monotone out of fear that if any emotion is there Strange may use it against me.

  
“And why can’t you be weak?” His voice, although stern as ever, has an uncharacteristic softness thriving within it. For a moment I believe that it may be pity. Then my mind jumps to worry, or sadness, or sympathy but even those don’t seem like the right word. It’s a tone I’ve only ever found in ancient dreams which I let go of a long time ago.

  
I swallow down the pain and hurt and cast my gaze down. “Because I need to fix this…. Because this is my fault,” I admit finally. When Stephen doesn’t ask for more I go on. “Every minute I go through this process of trying to pinpoint the exact moment I caused all this. I’ve gone back to so many different things, Stephen. When I saved that kid, when I killed that sorceress, training with you guys, joining you guys. I’ve thought back to messing with my magic and lineage, going to the park to meet Peter and so many other things.”

  
These memories keep coming to me. Ones I’ve spent years keeping out. My first kill, my first spell, my first step. I’ve thought of-” I stop myself before I continue. I question whether this is something I want to take out of the closet. Something I want to reveal to Stephen. “When I created the-the fourth Sanctum.” I can’t muster to courage to look at him.

  
“It was a month after my dad left me and I was suffering. I was alone and hungry and I needed some sort of hope. I needed my parents,” I confess. “One day I used my powers to try and bring them back but something happened. I was never able to figure out what until my dad told me.” Strange still doesn’t speak. “That’s when I realized that everything- everything I have ever done… it was all wrong. It all contributed to the undeniable evidence that this is my fault. I created the place that was every sorcerers’ Achilles heel. I brought the zealots right to the few people who could stop Dormammu. My life is the reason all of this is happening.”

  
I take a break finally to wipe at the small tear that had fallen from my eye. It rolls down my thumb, creating a shiny line of salty water. Strange still doesn’t speak to me and I finally force myself to look up at him. His expression hasn’t changed. He still has that same, absolutely unreadable look.

  
“Has it ever occurred to you,” he begins in a soft voice, “that maybe none of this is your fault?” I can’t help the sarcastic laugh that comes out of my throat.

  
“You can’t be serious,” I reply.

  
“But I am.” Strange stands from his spot. He tosses the pill bottle back and forth in his hands. “It wasn’t your fault for wanting to please your father by doing what he asked. It wasn’t your fault for being lonely and wanting your parents back. It wasn’t your fault deciding to live at the base when that was the only place you knew you had. Your father’s faults are not your own, Y/N.” I’m shocked to see Stephen extend his hand towards me again, the pill bottle patiently waiting.

  
“You are a good person, Y/N,” he proclaims. “A hero. Me, the Avengers, Peter, and everyone who has ever had the opportunity to truly know you are proud. So take the damn pills.”

  
I look up at Stephan, as intrigued as a person can get. Still, I try to read him and understand the absolute kindness and care he is showing me. I come up with nothing except for more confusion though.

  
Hesitantly, I raise my bandaged hand towards the orange bottle. Strange watches attentively to be positive that I’m not casting some sort of illusions. There’s no point in trying though. He sees right through every trick I’ve got.

  
“Fine,” I mumble and snatch the bottle away from him. I think he’ll look victorious the moment I do, but Strange still only has the soft expression that I can’t recognize. “As soon as I’m even a little better we are saving them though.”

  
Stephen smiles and nods. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.

 

____________

 

 

Warm water covers my body. Suds create beautiful, swirling designs in the tub that curl around my legs and arms as though the four limbs are apart of the art. The single mirror here is covered in a thick layer of steam that blurs anything that happens to be reflected in it. A green bathrobe that looks like it has been taken straight out of a hotel is hanged on the creaky door.

  
While I took my sling and bandages off I still force myself to keep my arms in the same position, knowing by now that moving them will just inflict even more pain upon myself. However, I do feel the medicine kicking in. My injuries feel much better now. The pain in my collarbone and chest has turned to subtle aching I expect to go away in no time. On the other hand, I feel like someone keeps running knives through the inside of my stomach just for the fun of it.

  
I push away the thought before I can linger on it too long and pull out the tub’s plug. As the drain swallows the soapy water, I step out carefully not to slip on the neatly arranged tiles. Five injuries are already enough.

  
Thankfully I manage limping to my robe before I can suffer from any more mishaps. Tugging it on I find myself appreciating the warmth.. The sleeves hang five inches past my wrists so to accommodate I carefully roll them up, still making sure to mind my collarbone and hand. Then I look at the bandage and sling, both of which lay aimlessly on the toilet seat.

  
I try and think of how to get them both off without assistance. Testing to see if that’s even a possibility I move my shoulder a bit. The moment I do pain bolts through my bones.

  
Then I decide to use my magic. Slowly, I begin stirring it up inside of me, pulling as much energy as I need from the world to control both items. Blue magic slithers from my fingertips, acting on little command. A small grin splinters across my lips when the light lifts my sling into the air, the bandage not too far behind. Both coils work simultaneously; one wrapping the bandage around my wrist the same way Peter did and the other sliding the sling on.

  
Once they’re done, the coils fizzle out. The sparks jump onto the ground and I stare on happily. When I do though, I feel my stomach contract again, signaling to me that the nausea I was suffering from minutes ago has worsened.

  
I stumble to the toilet, knowing full well what’s coming. Again my stomach convulses and I feel hot, acidic bile being forced up my throat. Before it can happen again though, I slam open the toilet and cough up the very little food I’ve eaten the past day. Once that’s gone all that’s left is acid that burns my already sore throat on the way up. My aching hands cling desperately to the toilet bowl as more and more is released from inside of my body. After a few minutes I start to believe that it may be slowing down, but then I feel my abdomen shudder, sending needles through my diaphragm and pushing a choked gasp from my mouth along with even more vomit.

  
Then there’s a knock. “Y/N?” Peter’s voice calls from beyond the bathroom door. I open my mouth to respond but instead more of my insides spill out. He calls once again, but this time I don’t even bother lifting my head from the toilet.

  
Behind me, the door opens and I listen as Peter immediately races toward me. His hands comb through my hair, pulling the wet strands back to keep them from getting dirty from my own puke. Peter’s other hand goes to rub my back, drawing wide circles over my aching back.

  
After what seems like hours of spewing everything that was in my stomach into the toilet bowl I moan tiredly, lethargy sweeping over my weak body. Peter’s hands remain comfortably wrapped around my waist as I twist a little to look at him. My lashes are awfully heavy and the sleepy tears collecting over my eyes has turned Peter into a warped, blurry mess.

  
I shake my head and laugh sadly. Peter’s blurred face tilts before I see a tan figure reach towards my face and brush one more strand of hair away.

  
“How unlucky do you have to be to end up loving me,” I comment randomly, another low laugh coursing through my raw throat.

  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter asks. I can’t help but start crying at the innocence of his sweet, kind voice. The way it wraps me up in a blanket of security.

  
“You,” it comes out more slurred than I hoped it would. “Peter Parker, you thought you were getting-”

  
“I knew what I was getting,” he interrupts softly. I shake my head and place my bandaged hand on his smooth face. While my fingers are there they trace the line of his cheekbone, his jaw. They curl into his hairline, wanting so badly to feel something as soft as his voice.

  
“No-no you didn’t. Peter,” I explain, “you thought you were getting the girl who saved a little boys life. Not the girl who is probably the most damned-by-god person out there. Not me, not me. You deserve so, so, so much more Peter. I know that because I love you,” I admit through slick tears. “I love you so much, Peter Parker. You’re my hero. You’re the first person I loved and who loved me back and you deserve so much better than me.”

  
Peter is silent for a moment and I begin fearing in the part of my brain that’s still wide awake that he may actually be considering it. Tears spill from my reddened, sore eyes silently now.

  
Finally, Peter leans forward and presses a kind kiss to the middle of my forehead. His hands hold the bottom of my face tight, his palms curling around the line of my jaw to make sure I don’t run.

When he breaks away he places his head against mine. I look into his blurred eyes as he looks into mine. I wish I could make out every detail of his brown irises like I usually can. In an attempt to do so I call upon memories in which we were close like this. Ones where I can see the deep lines running away from his pupils. Ones where the sun shines down on him, turning chocolate to honey.  
I beg for those memories but my mind is rattled and messy and all I can think of are feelings. The winter breeze leaving a moment so that the sun can curl around us. The pads of his fingers falling up and down my arms. My heart, racing in my chest, anticipating his next move, hoping for everything he has to offer.

  
“When will you realize,” he wonders to me, his voice small yet so impossibly powerful in my mind, “I just want you. I love you.” Then my tears are falling rapidly, ruining my vision even more as he pulls me closer. Fatigue slips further and further into my mind so that I barely feel the way he scoops me off the ground. My legs instinctively wrap themselves around his waist to keep from falling. Peter cradles me while he steps out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit halls.

  
I tuck my chin into the space between his neck and shoulders and whisper right into his ear, “Why?”

  
“Because you’re my hero,” Peter declares.

  
Then sleep takes over and I go numb.


	27. Part Twenty-Six

I wake to pain, like the past five mornings. Peter’s arms wrap themselves around my waist, his fingers still drawing lines along my hip bone. His short nails lightly scrape my skin as they move upwards. My gaze lingers on his messy hair before looking up at the ceiling. There are little holes drilled by water in the plaster. It must be old because it hasn’t rained in days. Nor has it snowed. The sun and moon haven’t gone round and round, chasing each other in the sky like they should. When I look out the window, all I see is a sky of kaleidoscopic light and color crashing into each other. No more moons or suns, no more snow or rain, no more gleaming blue skies or even people walking down the sidewalk. Only neons that could burn a person’s retina if they look too long.

I slide out of bed carefully as to not wake up Peter. He groans behind me before going to find something else to curl his arms around. Grinning, I pull on the tearing sweater I left on the nightstand the night before along with the sling I choose to ignore most days and step out of our room.

While it may be dark there is still enough light coming from outside to allow me to amble down the long hall. I do my best to ignore the neon pink and green orbs that drift across the wall next to me. They curve around the corners, stalking me. Without realizing it I’ve stopped. The neon reflections fall across my placid expression, hovering a moment before carrying on, heading the instructions of whatever has created them.

Down the hall, I can hear footsteps. Too far apart and quiet to be Peter’s. I mentally prepare myself for a conversation with Strange. All week most of our conversations have been simple niceties. "Hey" exchanged between us every time we see each other in the hall, him requesting that I take my medicine, me resigning into myself and swallowing them. There may be the occasional, "how are you feeling". Sometimes a little sprinkle of an idea for saving our friends. Never anything more.

After I finally realized what I heard in his voice that day I’ve had no desire to talk to him. Pride, adoration, kindness. Real, true, sincere feelings that I very vaguely remember hearing about six years ago during the most intensive part of my training. It’s how my dad should’ve been every day.

“You should be sleeping,” Strange informs like it’s a fact I haven’t already realized. That's the tone I prefer most of all. Blatant and to the point like a doctor“What woke you up?” This time I hear it in his voice. The distant memory.

I snicker. “A nightmare,” I mumble, my eyes still focusing on the distorted celestial bodies. _How much longer_ , I think to myself, _before that’s Earth?_

“Have you been getting a lot of those lately?” he wonders. My jaw clenches, frustration boiling within me all the sudden like a dangerous parasite we may have discussed in class months ago. I shake my head to try and dispel it, but the emotion still lingers.

“What does it matter?” I reply. “So what if I am? Are you going to heat up some milk and read a children’s book like Maxims Primer to me?” When I take a glance at Stephan he seems more taken aback by the comment than annoyed. He stares at me for a moment and then out of the window.

“Last time I checked,” he remarks, “Maxim's Primer is not a kid’s book.”

“It was for me,” I tell him, my lips pressed into a tight lie. “So was Astronomia Nova, Key of Solomon, Codex Imperium…. Almost anything you thought was a difficult read when you got to Kamir Taj.” Strange chuckles to himself, somehow finding more humor in my comment rather than insult. He gives me another sidelong glance.

“Do you get off on acting facetiously when it comes to your own problems?” he asks. I shrug back and stare out at the bright sky. A little horror spreads through me as I watch a giant sphere smash into what little remains of the Earth already, leaving a dark stain in its wake. The world shakes a little and I place my sore hand against the window sill to balance myself.

“I do when there are bigger things than my mental stability at stake.” I answer once the Earth stops its weeping.

“Look, I’m only worried the nightmares have to do with the time stone. That's all.” Although it’s a valid reason I still find myself rolling my eyes at his claim.

“You don’t need to worry. It’s not your place to worry.”

“Actually,” Stephen begins, his voice turning stern, “it is my place as your mentor and the person who has promised to protect you.”

“And you’ve done such a good job at that,” I spew my words at him while turning towards Strange, aggression etched into the movement. Now I find that he is completely expressionless; whatever he may be feeling hidden far, far away in his mind so that I can’t see it while he eyes something outside. “Strange, back off. I don’t need your pestering and I don’t need you acting like my-”

Before, I can finish something rolls up my throat. At first, I only gag on the peculiar thing, the taste of metallic mixed with something unknown coiling through my taste buds. When I look up Strange is staring out the window still, not realizing quite yet what’s happening.  I lurch forward abruptly, the thing desperate to leave.

Then the air starts leaving my lungs and I go to grab my throat. Next to me, Stephen is saying something but everything becomes a blur. Black spots start to collect over my vision, threatening me with unconsciousness that could lead to something even worse.

But before that can happen I choke up what was clogging my windpipe and spit it into my hand. I feel the weightlessness of the object as I catch my breath. My mind then focuses on the little pool of hot, wet stuff lying in the center of my palm, waiting for me to realize what it is.

Through the haze I see the bright red smoke spilling past my fingers. It seemingly appears to be coming from the dark circle of crimson I caught.

“Strange?” I ask almost silently. My breath turns to mist in the randomly freezing air. When I look up I find that I’m not even in the Sanctum Sanctorum anymore. I’ve been cast onto the cold New York streets. I glance around, fear and curiosity working harmoniously inside of my mind.

All the lights, whether they’re in buildings or lining the streets, have changed to an eerie shade of purple that leaves a stain in my eyelids. Above sphere’s swarm what remains of the Earth like hungry maggots. In the distances I can see one neon pink orb smash into a series of buildings, sending dust and debris flying. I expect there to be at least one scream of terror. One final act of fear before the end comes. There is no cry though and if anyone could’ve been in those buildings they’re already gone by now, laying among the rubble and acting as a martyr to one of the few people left to care.

I gulp down the guilt that collects in my throat like a thick stone I can barely breathe through and look down the opposite end of the street. Empty plastic bags drift around on an invisible breeze. Puddles sit in potholes waiting, the sun never shining down to take them away. Buildings lining the street having symbols of the dark dimension written all over them in angry red paint. Dried droplets drip down the rough bricks, every crevice catching more of the neon stuff to make the symbol seem even more monstrous.

Every nerve in my body stings as I stumble forward, eyeing signs along the way. A conspicuous humming murmurs in my mind and I somehow manage to capture the emotion that thrives within it. Horror. It shakes through my core as I pass by the front door of what I assume is a theater because of the different deteriorating show posters plastered to it.

Out of instinct, I let two blue shields appear in my hands in case I’m in more danger than one would expect. My magic clings to me helplessly. I pray that it's just nervous for some non-existent reason but as I turn into what I know as Time Square, I realize that there is an explanation for the anxiety both me and my abilities feel.

The clump in my throat grows again as I gape at the area in front of me. Above is a halo of fiercely glowing planets I hadn’t noticed before circling the entire area and acting as sentries to whatever may lay below. Like everywhere else, the lights around me have turned purple. The ones here are far more terrifying though because of the threatening size of each glowing sign. They gaze down at me like wide, gaping eyes. Something growls inside of me again, only this time I realize that it isn’t my magic, but the stone trying to tell me to run away. Although I hear the warning, something draws me closer and closer.

My insides ache as I approach the bright purple steps at the end of Times Square. Giant signs have toppled over and onto the pavement below, digging into the cement and ripping it to shreds. Their wires revealed and somehow still sparking with electricity. I plod over a path painted in bright blue that the Dark Dimension must've chipped and clawed at during its take over. The gates that once kept people away from the bright, destination-less steps have been blown to the sides as if in preparation for my arrival.

I cross the metal grates that power the entire square and mount the first step. Then the second and the third and so on. The time stone writhes inside of my body, tirelessly trying to tell me to get away while I can. But I hear a call. A low purr that drags me up these tainted steps so that I can reach the top. The time stone keeps trying though. It grabs at my legs and tries to hold them down, pushes at my chest to keep me back, digs sharp knives into my abdomen to slow the steps I make. My magic slams it into submission though and while it still bites and claws for release I’m able to take control.

“Welcome,” a voice says. It’s rough and despicably low. A voice that I’ve heard in my nightmares a million times before. Never like this though. Never so real.

All of the sudden a flume of smoke bursts past my face. I’m forced to shield my eyes from the stinging substances that surrounds me. The time stone has recoiled inside of me knowingly, and now I finally have a true opportunity to fear for what is coming.

As the black smoke begins thinning I open my eyes. The very little material that made it past my lips is coughed up from my lungs hoarsely, stinging the raw skin on it’s way out. My sling strains against my shoulder while I raise my head to look at whatever summoned the smoke.

Automatically, I’m met with a bright purple eye five times large than my body that reflects the light all around New York and possibly the world. If I didn’t know any better I would say I was looking into a whole other galaxy or a glowing nebula. But I do know better.

“I’ve waited so long to meet my prophet,” Dormammu, informs, his voice vibrating the whole earth. I wish I could hiss back at him. Never in my whole life have I wanted to fight as much as I do now, yet not been able to. This is the face of my maker. A face that is a constant state of rippling with dark, tar-like water. The edges of what I think is his body, fade into smoke and fire, making it hard for me to tell where he begins and ends. Engraved into the lines of his body is molten lava that spurts and roars viciously.

He shrinks down to a much more comprehensible size and what I believe is a smile spreads across his face. I fear that it may be from realizing I can’t manage a single word to voice back to him.

“So powerful,” he remarks lowly, still big enough to intimidate me with his size but small enough that I can see that his body does not expanse this whole dimension. He looks down at me, clearly amused as he takes a seat on a small building lobby. Dormammu leans back, the skyscraper behind him aching sadly against his weight.

“So I’ve heard,” I finally utter, much to my relief. Unlike usual, I don’t have the same bite in my voice I use on people like Dormammu. It’s weak and small. A voice I had to memorize from a young age when addressing my father.

“I  can only imagine the power you would’ve had by now,” he hisses, “if that sorry excuse for a sorcerer hadn’t taken you up as an apprentice.” I scowl now, insulted by his blatancy.

“You mean the sorcerer who trapped you in a time loop… in your own realm?” I wonder, gaining back a little sarcasm with each word. Suddenly, a rush of smoke blows right past my body. I flinch at the act, my arms going up to protect my face again. When I peek past my fingers I see the enlarged face of Dormammu glaring right into me, beating through every wall I have mercilessly until I feel like a crumpled heap on the bright steps.

“And where is your sorcerer now!” he shouts, anger and disbelief etched into every syllable. Once the smoke disappears from sight I step towards the ledge though, making sure my face in only a mere foot from his.

While the same question has crossed my mind a million times over these last five days I am sure of who my loyalty lies with. Besides, I know the answer. Strange trapped Dormammu in a time loop and made a bargain. The deal was that Dormammu leaves Earth and Strange leaves the Dark Dimension, taking time with him. The dark entity in front of me came back anyways though, and this time, with an intricate and unstoppable plan that has been in the works probably longer than I’ve been alive.

“Not only is Doctor Strange a better sorcerer and mentor,” I snap back, “but a better soul than you’ll ever be.” Much to my surprise satisfaction lights up Dormammu’s features and he shrinks downwards again, seeming smug like it was always his intention to make me argue with him. I wait patiently for him to speak, half expecting my demise or a severely long speech.

“Your father and I had a proposition,” he comments abruptly. “You, Y/N, are the only person who can fulfill it now.” I stare at him for a long minute, my mind pulsing from memory to memory, recalling all mentions of special deals. My mind comes to a few ancient conversations, murmurings of “having to keep my end”, but the most memorable is the most recent and disgusting.

_ “And there’s still a deal he must fulfill with me.” _

_ “What did you do? What the hell kind of deal did you make?” _

_ “The happy kind.” _

“What,” I mumble, “is the deal?” Dormammu smiles and leans forward, his distorted arms resting on his knees.

“He asked that I give him his family for the rest of eternity. A good, safe, peaceful eternity,” he answers. The color drains from my face as I imagine an entire eternity living with that man with no hope of escape. I find myself needing to grab onto the metal railing so I don’t fall over. My vision has turned red from anger and the blurring smoke suddenly drifting from my hands.

“And his end of the bargain?”  _ My end of the bargain. _

“He will do my bidding until the time comes in which there is nothing more to ask,” he steps down from his seat which has been turned into a burning mound. With him rises a cloud of pitch black smoke that makes my stomach turn over. “As for you,” he continues, “you will hand over the time stone and your magic to me, so that I may put it to proper use.”

I finally understand why the time stone didn’t want to come here. It knew that Dormammu wanted it. Wanted my magic and I didn’t listen. I step backward, my hand following the railing so I don’t trip. My heart palpitates in my chest. My palms sweat. My magic clings to my soul in a desperate attempt to keep away from the demon in front of us.

“No,” I tell him. “I will never give it up. Not for him. Not for that monster.” While saying it I remember how I would've so willingly given up my magic for the man I used to call father six years ago. I remember how much I wanted to please him. To sense the same pride in his tone that I hear in Stephan’s. Now I’m confident, certain that I would let him die before giving up the most important part of me.

Dormammu tilts his head to the side. “Then for your mother?” he wonders. My heart skips a beat as I look up at him curiously. Every thought in my mind disagrees with Dormammu's statement, but I see the sincerity in his purple eyes and I can’t help but believe him.

But would I give everything up for a mother I never met? Could I ever be so selfish as to let everyone die and give up my one chance to save the Earth for a woman who died before we could even say hello? Before I could look into her eyes and see what good derived from there? Do I want that chance?

“My answer,” I say, certainty filling my voice as I dismount the final step, “is still no.” Dormammu’s grin still remains though.

“Then I will have to change that answer then,” I furrow my brows and frown, “won’t I?”

Although I already have an idea of what he is saying I still ask, “What the hell is that supposed to mean.” The giant vortex of smoke swirls above me, sucking in stray ash and debris. All the sudden a bolt of lightning slams into the spot on the stairs where I was standing only minutes ago.

“I will be seeing you soon,” he tells me before evaporating into thin air.

“Wait!” I shout back. “What are going to do?” The question never reaches him though, and if it does it is forgotten as the cloud of black smoke drops on me.

I scream as it circles me. Little pieces of metal strike my skin. A piece of debri slams right into my collarbone, tearing a choked cry from my lips. Before I know tears are leaking from my ash filled eyes as I try my best to escape the tornado. The air is sucked up though and I fall to my knees weakly, already remembering the red mound that was in my hand earlier that predicted what was to come from this. I can imagine it. Ash, wood, and metal coating my throat as I try to claw it all out and breath before it's too late and all that will fill my throat is my own blood.

I gasp for something to calm my spasming lungs but all I come up with is more smoke. I cough and cry as unconsciousness sweeps me up and drops me hard on warm, wooden floors. Air finally enters my body. I heave on the ground, ignoring the sting in my shoulder as it presses into the firm, coaxing ground. My fingers curl into the thick strings sticking out of the carpet. From the little bits of images, I make out I can tell that I’m back in the sanctuary of the Sanctum Sanctorum.

I sigh, somewhat relieved, and stand up. As I’m walking towards the hallway where I was last with Strange I realize that I must not have been gone long if the majority of the lights are still off and no one is searching for me yet. I turn the corner and see my mentor still standing by the window. A glimmering red drifts across his face before fading into the darkness.

Stephen randomly turns towards me and I’m thankful for the lack of light above that keeps my wet cheeks from showing. His glare is harsh and from here I can tell that he is radiating far more annoyance than usual.

“Really, Y/N?” he lectures. “Doing a matter transfer during the middle of a conversation?” I say nothing. Strange rolls his eyes and begins stomping towards the end of the hall, not intending to stop and talk to me more. “What? You’re not gonna snap right back? You had plenty to say-” Once he is about a yard his sentence trails off. I can see his eyes tracing the tiny cuts and patches of ash and the tears on my cheeks that have mixed with both.

“I met him,” I announce in an unnaturally calm voice. “I met Dormammu.” Right away Stephen grabs my uninjured shoulder and pulls me into the light with him. He sits me on the sofa and looks over my cuts again, this time taking ten extra seconds for each little bloody mark.

“Is that why you-” I nod before he even finishes. Stephen shakes his head in dismay. “I should’ve realized. You would never leave without finishing an argument,” he remarks, intending for the last statement to exit a joke rather than judgement against himself. I shake my head, knowing full well that I should dispute it. That I should tell him that it’s not his fault. No one but Dormammu and my father is to blame for this. I’m just too tired to say it all. Instead, I try telling him by putting a hand on his scarred one. He looks up at me while I shake my head.

“I know what he wants,” I mumble sleepily. Stephen listens to me attentively, preparing himself for anything right now. “Why he created me.” Down the hall I can hear the floorboards creak under what must be Peter’s weight.

“What is it Y/N?” Stephen draws his attention back to him. My eyes remain on the hallway entrance for a second more and then I look at Strange, looking far more broken down than I would hope.

“Me, my magic, the stone. He wants to take everything.” I answer. A shadow crosses Stephen’s face. “Dormammu sowed the seed and now,” I take a pause, knowing that  has just entered the sitting room, “he’s finally ready to reap the harvest.”

  
  



	28. Part Twenty-Seven

I pant, my breathing coming out in short puffs of air. My needle’s point is resting on the ground next to me, blue light streaming from the obsidian and onto the mat. A conjured dummy waits patiently for me to begin my attacks again. In its false hands is a simple sword. One that I still haven’t been able to take away.

Laying next to the wall is my sling and wrist bandage, both of them having been removed during a moment of pure frustration. Despite the aching all throughout my body, I raise my hands in a defensive stance again, putting the pain way deep in the back of my mind where it can’t cause me any more trouble. The indigo sleeves of my tunic have been rolled up and a belt has been tied tightly around my waist, keeping the spare pants I managed to find in the Sanctum up.

“Ready,” I announce. Without any hesitation, my design charges towards me, it’s expressionless face focused in on mine. I don’t bother running towards it as well. Instead, I wait for it to reach me before spinning out of the way, my hand gripping onto the magic and yanking it down so the faux soldier falls. It hits the ground hard before rolling away, using its momentum to get up in under a second. Now it waits as well. I’ve designed it to take in my fighting style, analyze every move and use it against me, forcing me to change it up every few minutes.

Suddenly, the blade swipes at my stomach. I barely jump in time to avoid the stinging it would leave me with. While his arm is still exposed though, I shove my needle straight through his radius and ulna and twist upward. While he can’t make any noise I image the crack as his entire forearm twists from the socket. I imagine the blood-curdling scream as it is released from his gaping mouth. Then I rip the needle from the golden illusion. It falls towards the ground, disappearing completely before a single spec of magic could hit the ground.

“Y/N?” Peter asks, his voice soft. While rewrapping the bandages over my knuckles I turn towards him. Beneath his sweatshirt I can see the lines of his red spider-man suit; something I think he has only taken off to shower the past six days. Strands of his wavy hair turn to gold atop his head. He smiles at me kindly, feeling the rage and confusion rolling off of me just as much as he felt it last night when he held me on top of him. Every few minutes he’d tilt his head to see if I had fallen asleep only to find my eyes wide open and staring at something too distant for him to make out.

“What’s up?” I finish tying my bandages and flex my fingers. The strain of my sore wrist makes a wince leak past my lips without my permission. Peter chooses not to point out the high squeak as he enters the small training room. His eyes linger on my bracelet for an uncomfortable second as I recoil it back into my bracelet. The cool metal slides across the middle of my palm, choosing to behave when I command it to hide.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I wanted to check on you really quick. You didn’t get very much sleep last night.” Peter’s eyes glance over at the sling laying on the floor. I watch a small frown take the place of his grin. A little light falls from his eyes when Peter looks back to me and I almost feel the need to bow my head in the presence of his unconditional worry.

“I’m okay,” I reassure him. “My collarbone feels a lot better.” Peter’s mouth opens a little as though he’s preparing to tell me something important but then he shuts his lips together again and grabs the back of his sweatshirt with both hands. My eyes remain concentrated on him as he pulls it over his head and discards it.

“What are you doing?” I wonder. “Some sort of striptease?” Peter immediately chuckles at my joke and the noise makes a smile appear on my own lips. He steps out of his joggers and moves towards me.

“I’m gonna spar with you,” he announces. My smile falls.

“Peter,” I begin quietly.

“Look,” Peter states, “I know how these things go by now? I ask you to take a break but you just keep training, saying every time that if Dormammu comes you need to be ready, so I might as well train with you.” He messes with the web shooter that has been fritzing ever since I tore it from his suit. “If you’re gonna be obsessing over this then I’m going to be obsessing with you.”

“Fine,” I agree, biting my lip nervously as I look over Peter. “If you’re gonna spar with me though you need to fight like a sorcerer.” Peter furrows his brows right away, oblivious to what I’m getting at.

“You’re gonna teach me,” he looks around the room like he’s trying to find another set of eyes to confirm what I just said, “magic?” I laugh and shake my head.

“God no,” I clear up the confusion. “Magic takes weeks to even harness for some people.” Tapping my wrists together, I start conjuring a simple weapon for Peter to use. “I’m gonna give you a weapon you can use.” I grab a red sword out of thin air. Turning it over I make sure it’s something that will be safe for Peter to use. Silently, I extend the sword over to him, causing Peter to make a bewildered face at the magical blade.

“I have no idea how to-”

“It’s fine,” I interrupt. “I’ll show you. Just grab the hilt.” Peter nods at my instructions and hesitantly takes the weapon into his hands. I watch, subtly amused as he studies the glittering object he holds between his fingers. By the way his eyes light up I can tell he’s feeling the small surge of energy that pulses throughout his entire body.

“This is what magic feels like?” he asks, his hazel orbs filled with pure wonder.

“Yeah,” I laugh and nod while correcting the way his fingers are wrapped around the hilt. “Though this is more diluted so your body doesn’t immediately undergo the change.” Peter looks up at me and my heart squeezes at the sight of his wide smile.

“This is crazy,” he remarks and I chuckle again.

“Okay, Spidey.” I shake my head and move to the side so that I can properly mess with his arms if I need to. “Now something you need to know. Never hold a longsword with one hand.” Peter opens his mouth to retort but I hush him before he can. “It’s a myth. It won’t make you look like a badass. It will, however, make you look like a clumsy dipshit.” When I look at Peter again his mouth is pressed into a tighter line out of displeasure.

“This just became a lot less fun,” he grumbles sarcastically.

Scoffing to myself, I push up his arms and begin bending them to where they need to be. “This is middle position,” I inform him. He nods intently as I push his arms into the next spot. “Hanging right,” I guide his arms to the other side of his body. “Hanging left.” As I go on Peter continues to keep a close eye on the way I move him. His brown eyes trace the lines of his arms everytime I change the position, always taking a moment or two to try and memorize what I’ve just shown him.

As I’m leading his arms into short Peter abruptly says, “I remember seeing you for the first time.” I stop my teaching and slowly look up at him, wondering what could’ve possibly crossed through my boyfriend’s mind to have brought that up so suddenly. “It was at registration. You looked tired like you were up all night working. I think you were wearing jeans and an old band t-shirt that had a hole in one of the shoulders, right?” I nod in response, not actually knowing but just wanting him to continue. “There was always something I thought was different about you. I always figured that it was because you were quiet but I think that somehow I always knew.”

“Knew about my magic?” I question. Peter shakes his head.

“Not that,” he mumbles, his focus once again shifting to the sparkling sword. “I think I knew even then that you’d be important to me.” Hot blush starts to bloom over my cheeks and I pretend to be fixing his footing so that it is hidden. “I remember the first day I heard your voice too. It was always softer than I expected. Since you were always so tired I thought it would be rough, but it wasn’t. It sounded wide awake, like you were in on some sort of important universal secret and you had to protect it. It would crack sometimes though when you were talking about things that made you bored.”

Finally, I work up the courage to look at Peter who has already been gazing right at me for god knows how long. “Do you remember stuff like that?” he wonders. I shrug my shoulders shyly and go back to fixing his grip.

“Not really, no,” I answer truthfully, praying that I didn’t disappoint too much. “I remember sitting next to you in the library after, you know, Ben.” I peek through my hair and at Peter to make sure I didn’t make him upset by mentioning his uncle. When I’m sure that he isn’t I turn back to his arms. “I remember our first hellos, and goodbyes, and that world history project we did together. How you had me speak to the class because you were still too shy around everyone.” I frown a bit and subconsciously begin messing with the edge of the sword.

“I guess everything before October and after my dad left is sort of a blur,” I continue. “Everything I remember has some sort of shape in mind but I can’t decipher the exact details. Not until saving the kid. I just guess before then nothing was worth remembering.” My index finger slips down the blade's edge and falls back over Peter’s hand. “Back then I used to just go through the motions. I never really took note of faces or voices and anything really. I was just… the girl that existed, I guess.

Behind me, Peter lowers the sword slowly as to not startle me. While one still holds onto the hilt the other reaches for the back of my raised hand. I allow the advance and silently revel in the way Peter’s fingertips course across the skin of my palm so that he can intertwine our hands. He spins me around so that I’m facing him.

“You have always been so much more than the girl that existed, Y/N,” Peter assures me as he rests his forehead against mine. Then he’s suddenly leaning in and pressing his lips against mine. I moan at the abrupt connection and grab onto his shoulders for support while I try to regain the balance that was so quickly stolen from me.

One of Peter’s hands grabs onto my hip, the humming weapon somehow still connected with his hand while the other releases my wrist and goes to caress my face. I nuzzle the side of my cheek into his palm, desiring more contact than I’ve been allowed for the week. Peter’s fingers squeeze my waist suddenly, but instead of yelping, I groan softly. He takes it as an invitation to pull me closer, the hand on the side of my face growing insistent as he deepens the kiss.

Before I realize what I’m doing I’ve guided Peter so that his back is pressed against the wall. His hand falls up and down my back, lighting up my nerves with every move. My palms slide from his shoulders and towards his neck. I feel the thin fabric of his Spider-Man suit and I curl my fingers into the hem of it for better grip.

When we separate Peter and I are both panting heavily, our eyes closed and fingers still holding on closely to each other’s bodies. My body falls against Peter’s and I tuck my head into his chest, breathing in the scent of him. He places his head on top of mine and sighs heavily.

“God,” I whisper into his skin, “I love you so much.” Peter’s calloused fingers gently brush out a knot before settling back in.

“I love you too,” he tells me. “Also,” I lift my head from Peter’s chest so I can hear him better, “holding a longsword in one hand is absolutely the most badass thing I’ve ever done.” I laugh immediately, looking at the way he is still holding the weapon before I drop my head back into the crook of his neck.

“You’ve clung to the side of a falling plane Peter,” I remind him.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “but this is magic.” I giggle again and shake my head.

“God, I love you so much Spidey,” I repeat. Peter shifts his head enough to kiss my hairline.

“I love you too, Blue.” He hugs me close to him, his protective arms wrapping around my back. I smile into his fair skin, this time trying hard to pick out exact scents. The Thai restaurant he and Aunt May always go to, sweat, a small hint of cologne, burnt metal, and detergent. All things I’ve learned to love. I continue focusing on the smells etched into the fabric of his clothes until a distant ticking begins just outside the training room door.

“You hear that,” Peter asks under his breath. My eyes automatically go to look at the hairs on his arms. All of them are standing straight up. I nod, my eyes remaining on his hairs for a second longer. We separate from each other slowly, fearing that even the smallest movement may cause a throng of trouble to come bursting through the doors. I study the handle of the door before setting it on top. There is no horrible sensation but I can still make out the faint ticking.

“Y/N!” Peter, shouts. Suddenly, he tears me away from the doorway and spins us around so that his back is facing the strange noise. Then a mind shattering boom screams into my ears, turning every noise into ringing as I’m thrown forward. When I land I do so hard, my rib cage slamming into the mat that cannot provide enough padding. Pain shoots through my collarbone, and I can hear the sickening crack of the bones slipping even further out of place.

I open my eyes slowly, the lights have become too bright in the last few seconds. Ash and buring wood have fallen all around me. It seems easy to remain on the ground right now and just let sleep take me, but then I see the bright red mound on the ground not too far away. My heartbeat fills my ears in under a moment as I realize who it is.

Despite the pain and ringing I get up on my hands and knees and start crawling towards Peter. As I move I can hear my split bone scratching against itself. The medicine I took this morning has faded away and I’m forced to bear all the pain as I finally get close enough to see the damage Peter has suffered from. Covering his entire back is a thin layer of blood. I can make out deep puncture wounds over his shoulder blades and where I assume his stomach is. I attempt pushing my hand against a wound to slow some of the blood flow but it all just leaks past.

“Spidey,” I whimper weakly. Outside I know that there must be dozens of zealots waiting for the dust to clear so they collect me and leave Peter to die. “Peter baby,” I try again. This time he stirs a little. I’m relieved when his eyes just barely crack open enough for me to see hints of warm chocolate.

He winces, the sharp air pushing through his teeth. I bite the inside of my cheek as I try and think of something to do. My mind only comes up with one thing though.

“Okay, Peter,” I begin while placing my hands over the cuts again. “I’m gonna do what I did for Icarus. I’m gonna take away some of the pain.”

“Y/N,” he slurs. “No. You get out. Get Strange.” I shake my head, the torrent of tears in my eyes barely being held back by my will alone.

“I’m not leaving here without you,” I assert. “Just stay still.” Peter’s already fallen asleep again though. I grimace and begin pulling energy from within my body to replace what Peter has lost. I feel the transfer begin. My entire back begins to ache as I continue with the spell not even Stephen approves of.

Slowly, I feel spots of blood start spilling through my tunic as I close Peter’s entire wound. He still refuses to wake though and I fear the worst. Hesitantly, I let out part of my astral form and push it into his skin to see what’s wrong. I gasp when I see the amount of blood filling places it shouldn’t. All the healing I can’t complete is entirely internal. Now I let my tears fall as I look down at Peter, his face paling quickly.

“Okay,” I whisper, my voice ripping at the seams. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay baby? We’ll both be okay. They won’t get us. We’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay, okay Spidey?” As I’m saying it I push as much energy as possible into my body and use it to lift my body off the ground, carrying Peter with me. I barely manage staying up let alone holding Peter as we cross the destroyed threshold.

Two blue blades effortlessly drop from my hands and begin flying around, striking zealots who I have no time to worry about. As I go down the hallway I start feeling stronger already and soon enough I’m able to direct my magic at Peter rather than use it to move my own legs. My eyes dart around, fear creeping into every cell of my being to keep me on high alert.

When I turn a corner I’m faced with Strange who has a shield and blade in each hand. As soon as he sees Peter and I the weapons disappear though and he grabs both of us. I follow Stephen as he leads us through all the relics and downstairs, to the foyer that has already been ripped apart. He leads us into a little hallway that has a large, golden clock on one side and a giant door on the other. On it is the same symbol I recognize from the upstairs window.

Stephen flicks his wrist and the doorway flings open, hitting the walls before coming to a stop. I use the magic remaining in me to levitate Peter’s body and float him to the safety of wherever the portal leads to. Once he has been set down on the floor I run a hand across my back only to find that there is no more blood.

“Y/N!” Strange shouts at me. I lift my head to look him in the eye. “Go now!” I furrow my brows and shake my head, rushing to Stephen’s side.

“No way,” I growl back. “I’m not letting you fight them alone.”

“Yes,” Stephen grabs onto my arms and pushes me back, “you are.”

I slam my feet into the ground, sending a pulse of magic that is more to shock Strange into stopping than to cause damage, “No I’m not,” I reassert and shake my head. “I’m leaving you to die again, Stephen. Not again. Please, let me stay here and help.” He narrows his eyes at me and looks over his shoulder to see if anyone has followed us. When he turns back there is a rawness in his eyes that I’ve come to recognize from him. Stephen reaches for one of my hands and places something inside of it, closing my fingers over the substance so that I can’t lose it.

“What-” I don’t get the chance to ask as he pulls me into his arms and hugs me tight. My eyes widen at the sudden gesture but it doesn’t take long for me to return it. I embrace him back, keeping my hand tightly closed around whatever he gave me while I shut my eyes and appreciating the feeling of him holding me.

“I’m proud of you,” he tells me. I feel his shoulders shift but I choose to ignore it. “And I know you will do the right thing… even when I’m gone.” My eyes automatically snap open but it’s already too late. The Cloak of Levitation falls onto my shoulders and picks me up and off the ground.

I scream and kick, willing it to let me go. I try to harness my magic to force it away from me, but I used what little I had left in me to send Peter to safety. My fingers claw at the soft material and I shout for Strange to stop it. He doesn’t listen though and I’m thrown through the portal. The cloak stays on me, keeping my feet firmly planted on the ground as Stephen mouths what I believe to be goodbye before waving his hand and turning the portal to stone. I automatically fall to the ground, pain shooting through my entire body. Tears leak freely from my eyes as I race toward the door and slam my fists against it.

“Stephen!” I scream, announcing to anyone in the vicinity that I’m here. “Stephen! Let me through now! Let me through!” Blood stares dripping from my hands as they scrub against the scratchy surface. I let out a loud shriek and fall to the ground, my knees colliding hard with the dark tiles. “Please Stephen,” I beg. “Please let me save you.”

Before I can grieve anymore I hear a distinct cough. Spinning around, I find Peter laying on the ground with the Cloak of Levitation hovering over him. I race towards him and place his limp body in my lap.

“Oh god Peter,” I murmur. I look up at the cloak helplessly. “Find someone, please.” It follows my command without thinking twice and shoots around the corner. I turn back to Peter and press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re going to be okay Spidey,” I say. “You have to be okay. For me, please, please, please be okay. Please.”

I hear the footsteps down the hall, notifying me that whoever it is is hurrying. The will I had before is gone though and I can’t even raise my head from Peter’s body. In my clenched fist is whatever Stephen gave me before sending me away. Now it feels more like a curse than a gift now. I search for courage. The courage to look my saviors in the eye and say thank you. The courage to look up even when a few sorcerers pick up Peter and carry him away to be treated. The courage to open my hand and see what the powder is. The courage to stand.

Dormammu took them all from me though. Everyone. Tony, Cap, Nat, Thor, and Clint. The whole team. Then he took away Stephen and now I have no idea if Peter will even make it through. He’s the last thing I have to lose. What if he lives though? How much longer until that monster tears him away from me too?

Dormammu was right….

I don’t want to fight anymore.

  
  



	29. Part Twenty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!!!!!!! There is some important stuff I need you guys to know beforehand!!!!
> 
> 1.) This chapter made me cry like crazy. I’m not kidding when I say I broke down every page. I’ve grown really connected with this character after writing her and it’s just upsetting to me so be warned if you’re really sensitive like your dearest author. This chapter made me cry like crazy. I’m not kidding when I say I broke down every page. I’ve grown really connected with this character after writing her and it’s just upsetting to me so be warned if you’re really sensitive like your dearest author.
> 
> 2.) It is a very triggering chapter. There are exactly 8 paragraphs that depict child injury, death, and abuse (2-8 sentences). I do not describe things like that in major detail but I understand how easy it is to be set off by something. The whole reason said paragraphs are even included (I always have a reason for things such as this. It seems wrong to me to put things such as this in just for shits and giggles) is to show y/n being triggered (PTSD) by the appearance of another character and to motivate to her major goal.
> 
> 3.) This is approximately 6000 words. This is by far the largest part in the series so know that it may take a little more time to read.
> 
> 4.) And most importantly = This is not the end

Quiet. Out of all the things I've come to hate, quiet is by far the worst. It makes sense, seeing that I've spent so much time escaping it now.

I hate the quiet now because it means that I'm alone. That they're not here next to me. There's no Nat chuckling as I talk about cute things Peter does because she knows that no matter how many times I tell her I don't do boy talk, she knows I want to. There's no Bucky insulting my fighting to motivate me even though in his eyes I see that he's a little impressed by how much I'm holding up. There's no Steve subtly praising my fighting technique when I'm barely able to get out choppy breaths. There's no Sam calling me Y/N Stark just because it makes Tony annoyed. There's no hushed breathing as walk beside Stephen, him showing me around the sanctum while he begrudgingly lets the cloak rest on my shoulders. There's no Tony rambling on about new suit designs as he yanks the coffee mug away from me, murmuring about how it's gonna rot my teeth. There's no peter tracing little symbols on my skin, whispering sweet nothings in my ear as he holds me close to I can hear his heart. God now that I've known their noise I hate the silence their absence brings me.

I lean against the exit to the small room I've been given. Light comes in streams through the intricately barred window. My knees are pressed to my chest as I rock back and forth, the cold powder still held inside my clenched fist. The Cloak of Levitation has landed on my shoulders again to help comfort me. While one corner holds my arm in place to prevent more damage to my collarbone the other moves in circles over my shoulder the same way Stephen would do when I was stressed out by something. I feel the difference though. There is no consistent shaking while the cloak moves back and forth. I can't hear its quiet breathing the way I could hear Strange's when he would stand behind me, his attention unevenly split between me and something he had been concentrating on minutes earlier.

I hear and feel the difference, because Strange wouldn't be silent and he wouldn't be steady. Not truly at least.

Sighing, I stand up, the cloak aiding me so that I don't trip. When I step out of my room I find the same thing that was haunting me in the depths of my dark room. No one is out. Everyone either working on healing Peter or sleeping or maybe fretting about the invasion, seeking hope in withered books. It must be nice to be searching for hope now. To believe so desperately that one can find it in the simplest thing. A book, a drop of rain, a set of eyes. I can only imagine that now though. Hope.

"Miss Y/L/N," someone calls across the halls. I stare up at a sorcerer whose dark brown eyes look weary as I approach. His coal colored hair has been pushed back and out of his eyes and his mouth is screwed up as he stares down at my placid expression. Fear tingles in my chest as I realize what he might tell me.

 _Peter is dead_ , my thoughts whisper.  _He's dead and he's not coming back. If only you had just accepted the deal when Dormammu told you. Then Stephen wouldn't be dead and neither would-_

"He's okay," the short man says before my dark thoughts can blossom further. "At least he will be. We were able to stop the bleeding with magic but the rest he must do on his own. I heard he has enhanced healing," he comments. My eyes remain on the door behind him instead of replying.

_My mind flashes to the ancient memory of hospital lights overhead. The smell of hand sanitizer fills up my nostrils and I can hear the shouts of dozens of people as I drag the girl into the hospital, covering my hands is her slick blood. She moans, her insides aching the more I move her. She's younger than me. Younger and so, so small. Her body makes the hole right through her diaphragm seem so much bigger. So, so much bigger. Silent tears drip from my gaping eyes as a nurse with long, charcoal colored hair that has been tied into a ponytail and a short body picks her up from my arms and brings her to a hospital room._

_I look down at the blood on my hands. Her angry, hot red blood that still drips from my fingers. My body slumps and I'm suddenly sitting on the floor of the hospital hallway, still watching as thick crimson drops from my hands and onto the linoleum._

_The nurse comes back out, sadness and empathy etched all over his face. He kneels in front of me and places a soft hand on my gouged knee._

_"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice unbelievably kind for a time like this. "She's gone." I can't respond, guilt trapped in my throat. "We know that you did your best to get her here in time and we're all very proud that you stood up for her against that man, but we are going to need you to speak to the police. Is that okay, sweetheart?" Still nothing. The nurse swallows. "I'm going to get a wet rag to clean up your cuts really quick." I don't bother watching him as he stands and walks down the hallway._

_Then I hear someone growl lowly. My eyes don't need to look up to know that it's my father coming for me. He doesn't bother speaking nor does he look at the deep cuts he inflicted upon my knees when he tossed me away from the little girl. My friend. All he does is grab my wrist and teleport us back home before the nurse can come clean my cuts._

_Before I even have a chance to apologize his open palm comes down on my face. I'm thrown to the side my body slamming into the couch. My eyes are wide with horror. I turn back to him. Rage rolls off of him in droves and I want nothing more than to fall to the ground and curl into a tight ball that is impossible for him to touch. I stay upright though, basically waiting for the next blow._

_"I told you to never tell anyone about your magic," he hisses, venom rolling off his tongue like it's his native language. "Now look what you've done." His hand smashes against my face again, only this time it is closed into a tight fist. Now I tumble to the ground, taking the chance to draw my knees over my face and prepare. Then the kick comes. At first they hit my shins, drawing screams and yelps of pain from my lips, but once they find my stomach they stay there. The heel of his boots connects with kidneys, my stomach, and my lungs before doing the process all over again. Blood dribbles from my wide mouth that has stopped producing shrieks of pain._

_That night, when my father finally leaves, I fall asleep on the floor praying that my friend forgives me for showing her magic._

"Y/N," the man says suddenly, drawing my attention to reality. I nod numbly, showing that I acknowledge his statement before passing him and stepping past the door. The moment I do I shut my eyes hard, only needing one glance at Peter to know this is not something I want to see.

Hesitantly, I start opening my eyes again, my eyelashes fluttering to reveal a messy picture of Peter on a wooden slab that was thrown together haphazardly. The more my eyes widen the more I see. Above him, gold emblems are circling in a constant state of healing. His face is pale. So much paler than the tan ivory that I've come to find familiar. His hair is stiff on his forehead, hardened by old sweat and ash and so, so much blood.

As I'm looking at him tears start falling from my eyes mercilessly. My body shakes and quivers as I try to stifle all the strangled noises that try to escape my mouth. A few sharp gasps draw air into my lungs before I screw my lips shut again.

I move towards Peter slowly. If I were to go any faster than I could only imagine the way I would collapse on top of him. Even going at such a slow pace my feet threaten to trip me and I have to depend on the cloak to keep me upright. The closer I get to him the more I find. The gashes and bruises covering his face, blood still caked into his stubby fingernails, his mouth, just barely open to suck in air.

When I finally reach him, I don't dare touch him. Instead, I let my hands flow over the lines of his weak body, tracing every cell without touching any. My heart flutters as my palm hovers over his heart. I concentrate my magic and listen to the beating of the muscle. It's so slow. So quiet.

I open my eyes again only for them to immediately focus on a pocket connected to the side of his suit. The fabric stretches over whatever Peter keeps inside. Finding myself curious I reach forward and tug it out. My free hand recognizes the shape and feeling and my heart goes from sinking to soaring and back again as I gently pull Tony's glasses from Peter's pocket. How he got a hold of them I have no idea. I barely remember bringing them to the Sanctum in the first place.

Suddenly, my tears begin falling again, grief taking over everything ounce of my being. I cling to the orange-tinted sunglasses, my thumb following the crack in the display. Everything I've ever had and hoped for has been taken away by one person. One person is to blame for almost everything horrible that has happened in my life and it isn't Dormammu.

"Y/N?" Friday asks. I jump at the sound of her voice. Even the Cloak of Levitation clenches around my shoulders, prepared to drag me away. I raise the glasses to my face and turn them around. They fit on my face perfectly and the display lights up over my eyes.

"Friday," I whisper back, relieved.

"Y/N," her voice is fritzing and I have to dedicate my attention to her to hear, "something is wrong. I can't connect t-to any systems."

"I know," I mumble, "I know. I don't think you'll be able to connect for a while."

I wait for a response but it never comes. The screen still changes and moves though, informing me that the speakers may have just broken. I sigh and rub my red, stinging eyes. Outside I can hear a few sorcerers stir, but other than that the world is still silent.

"Friday," I begin, an idea stirring up in my mind, "can you hear me?"  **YES**  flickers across the broken screen. "Can you pull up the camera for me?" A second passes, and then two, and finally the camera function pulls up the screen. I look at Peter through the display. I imagine him waking up, confused as to where he is but safe. Safe because of what I'm about to do.

Slowly, I pull the glasses off my face and set them on a window sill that is about a foot lower than my head. I take a few steps back to make sure I'm in the frame and look at Peter, whose limp body is still laying patiently on the wooden slab. Waiting for what I will do next.

"Start the video," I command. My eyes linger on Peter a moment longer even though I can hear the beep that comes from Tony's glasses. "You're confused," I start speaking. "That is if you even find this, which even that I'm unsure of." Finally, I turn towards the glasses, my eyes already rimming with tears again.

"I've never done this," I inform. "Goodbyes I mean. I never had the chance to. My mother died before hello, my father disappeared without leaving so much as a note, and people have left my life before I could even find a way to care enough to say goodbye." I stare down at my worn shoes, dirt covering the entire top. "So I'm sorry if this isn't the right way to do it. The kind way. Don't blame me though. I've never really had a good example when it comes to this.

I look up. "So goodbye. This is... the end," I remark. "If I play my cards right it won't be the end for you all though. Just-" I choke up on something, the acceptance of what I'm planning to do just now setting in. "It will just be the end for me. I've been given a choice by Dormammu, though I don't think I can call it choice anymore. It's you guys or me. My magic or the end I fear more than anything else. Your end. The end of everyone who I love.

"My end doesn't bother me though," I tell them. "I'm not saying that I'm not scared because I am undeniably terrified. All I'm saying is that I think I've been preparing for it my whole life. More than enough times I've believed I was going to die. Whether it would be by my father's hand or the hand of magic was always unknown to me. The only thing I was unprepared for was that it wasn't any of those things that would bring me to the end of myself. It was me. Maybe even you. I've been gifted with an actual life. A life I enjoy and now it's time for me to give in. Do what Dormammu asks." I look above the window and out the window. Outside I can hear the shrill cry of a crow as it flaps overhead, it's wings beating hard to lift it further into the sky.

"There is something Dormammu doesn't understand though. The one thing that is stronger than him." A smile splinters across my face and I stare right into the glasses. "The hatred I possess for my father. The man who sent me down this path of ruin that gave me one of the things I desired more than anything else, family, before ripping it away ruthlessly. He took away everything. My planet, my family, my hope, and now... my magic." I tilt my head. "Let him have it. All of it.

"This is the story of how I come to the end of myself," I confirm. "But it is also the story of how I take my father to the end as well." My eyes shift to Peter one more time. He stirs under the glow of magic and I know that I need to finish the video before he wakes up. "And I know how all stories like this end. My father told me enough times that the words have been carved into my brain. I'm already falling, and now it's time for me to sink. I am the Icarus, but I'll be damned if my father doesn't go beneath the waves with me," my voice turns to a whisper. "I will complete the deal. I will give up my magic and go to wherever my father waits in return for all of your lives, and although I've lost all my hope. Although there is nothing left for me to stay here for unless I want more death and ruin, I will fight with every ounce of courage I have left in me. I will fight my father and I will fight Dormammu. That is when the time is right."

I take a pause, my eyes looking to the dark sky once more. The silhouette of a crow crosses over a bright planet. The breeze catches its wings, and it halts the flapping of its wings for a moment so that it may float.

_Hello Icarus._

"Thank you for everything," I tell the camera without looking away from the window. "Thank you for loving me in all the ways I never thought a person could and then loving me more. I may have found my end, but thank you for making it a good one." Next to me, I hear a rustling as Peter starts to wake up. His eyes squeeze together, the pale lights above already becoming too much for his sensitive eyes.

"Y/N," he murmurs. Although it may just be a glimpse of his dream escaping the real world and I look back to the glasses.

"Stop the video," I whisper. I hear the beep as Tony's glasses shut down again. Moving silently, I grab the glasses and tuck them in my back pocket where Peter won't be able to see them. When I turn back his eyes have finally pushed themselves open. His brown orbs trek the whole room in a single second before landing on me.

"Y/N?" he asks. I fake a smile and step towards him. His hand rubs at his left temple softly, trying to work away the concussion that still remains in his head. "Why are we here? What happened?" Peter glances around, his eyes searching for something now. When he looks to me there is a hint of fear in his eyes. "Where's Strange?" he wonders.

The question hits me like an arrow to the heart. I open my mouth to say something.  _He died protecting us. He fought and went down a hero. Stephen died so I could finish this._ None of them sound right in my mind though. I bite my bottom lip and look down. Hot water wells up on my tear line. Knowing they'll drip down, I raise my face and look up at the ceiling to stop them. One falls down my cheek anyways though.

When I look at Peter he is staring back at me worriedly, obviously after having just seen the single tear roll down my bruised cheek.

"He did everything he could," I announce weakly. Peter's expression falls.

"Y/N," he whispers in his soft voice, "I'm so sorry." I shake my head and begin walking towards him. It takes every bit of energy in me to hold my head up.

"It's okay," I affirm to each of us. "It will all be okay soon." I ignore the way Peter's face shifts to show his confusion while I lean down and press a short, bittersweet kiss on his chapped lips. A tear drips from my lashes and onto his face, notifying me that I don't have any more time to savor the way he feels. "I need to go now." I force myself away from the boy who watches me curiously.

"Where are you going?" He takes a single moment. "No," Peter whispers finally. I grimace internally and close my eyes, too afraid to see his disappointed gaze. Outside I hear the caw of Icarus, telling me that I don't have much more time left.

"I'm sorry, Peter," I apologize as I step towards the door. "I need to do this." Abruptly, Peter's hand makes contact with my arms and he pulls me back.

"No," he begins to sit up, his hand still holding my free hand tight so I can't try running, "you don't." Peter winces and I automatically go to push him back down to the wooden slab.

"Peter," I murmur, "don't get up. You'll make it worse." While he listens I can still see the burning frustration and fear in his eyes. He holds me tighter and pulls me closer to his face. I let my lips fall to his again. Peter's other hand rises to my cheek. His thumb rubs at the trail my tear made, creating invisible designs with the salty water.

"Then don't go," he whispers against my lips. I open my eyes to see Peter already gazing straight into them. His beautiful irises are glowing with love. Pure unconditional love. "It doesn't have to be this way." I gulp before shifting my left hand in the sling. Magic pulses from my fist and binds Peter to the table. I watch the betrayal settle into his eyes now. It's so contradictory to what I saw seconds earlier.

"It already is," I manage to choke out before standing back up. My eyes water even more as I watch Peter struggle against the neon blue restraints.

"Y/N," he pants, losing his breath quicker than usual, "please don't go." I find myself hating the way he begs. Every atom within me tells me to stay, but I hear Icarus call for me again and I know it's time for me to leave.

"Running is one of my greatest talents, Peter," I admit. He strains against the straps again. His muscles tense underneath the torn fabric of his suit. "At least now I can run toward something." When Peter looks up at me again I'm stunned to see tears are streaming from his eyes too now. His head shakes slowly, his eyes desperate to stay on me for as long as possible.

"Please," he whimpers, "not now." Guilt rises like bile in my throat.

"Peter," I try.

"I don't want to live in a world you're not apart of," he proclaims. My heart squeezes at his statement and both my hands' clench. One into the fabric of the cloak and the other into the powder I'm still holding on to.

"Peter," I say again, only this time my voice has lost its assertive confidence. It drifts into the wind and out the window where the sleek black crow outside glides on it for a moment before it disappears altogether.

"You're my everything, Y/N." I look right into his eyes, my eyes soft.

"No, I'm not," I comment, knowing in my heart that it's true. He has Tony, and Ned, and Michelle, and most importantly Aunt May to be his everything. I'm not his everything. I never was. That's how I know that if I succeed, he'll be okay.

"If you stay," Peter starts, making any promise he can now through his tears, "I will love you in all the ways you deserve. Every piece of you, Y/N. I will love it. Adore it. Put it above everything else." I smile sadly.

"But you already do." Frustration and horror are still brewing in his eyes, but he's silent enough for me to continue. "I don't regret anything Peter, not even a second. I need you to know that. Not meeting you, or going to the park, or giving you my heart." I pet back his stiff hair, my hand lingering for a moment too long. "If I did anything right in my life, it was falling in love with you." Peace ripples through me suddenly and it's enough to carry me through. "Peter, you made me feel loved and wanted and for that, I'll always love you. Just-" I swallow hard, "just don't forget me, please. Don't forget how much I love you. Don't forget anything I just told you."

"Y/N," he cries and my heart quakes again, "please don't leave me." The sight of tears being released from his eyes makes them fall from my own. I close my eyes to concentrate on anything but him falling apart.

"Peter, it's okay," I reassure. "I can be a hero." Peter shakes his head from side to side. His wavy hair jostles because of the action, and I can't help but smile at the sight of it. I wish I could remember the rest of him the way I'm remembering his hair right now. Lovely and uncontrollable and so soft.

"You don't need to be a hero anymore though," he tells me. "You can take a break. Just please stay."

"You're right. I don't need to be a hero. But I am ready to be," I retort with no anger, malice, or frustration in my voice. Only love. That's all I have to offer him. "Yours, theirs, and mine." I lick my lip before leaning in again and pressing a kiss right against his forehead. "I'm sorry, Peter." I stand up, still looking straight into his eyes. "I love you." Peter begins struggling against the restraints again.

"Y/N!" he starts shouting, his voice raspy. I clench my teeth together and keep my eyes on Peter's despite the internal protest going on in my soul.

"Goodbye, Peter," I whisper, the words so impossibly hard to get out of my mouth.

Then I turn away, not willing or able to look him in the eye. The room turns silent for a second as I walk across the room. Both of us hold our breath, still unsure about whether or not I'm even going to really open the door and leave. Leave and accept that this is the end.

"Don't you leave me," Peter whispers, his voice stern despite the level of volume he's speaking at. I hesitate before placing my hand on the bronze nob and turning it. "Don't you dare leave me, Y/N!" he shouts now. I swallow down the shame and step out of the room, turning his screaming into muffled murmurs that I can't quite understand as I shut the door. Once I'm out tears spill freely from my eyes now, glad for there release. I keep moving down the hall, ignoring the eyes of hundreds of sorcerers as I yank Tony's glasses out of my pocket and place it in a small vase where I know it will be safe, praying that it will be found once all of this is over. The cloak lifts off of my shoulders without needed to be persuaded. Far behind me, I can hear Peter cry out again and then I'm stepping out the exit of this sanctuary and into the New York Sanctum.

____________

I walk down the lonely streets of Manhattan. Street lights and apartment windows blare down at me with their purple light like ever watchful eyes. Behind me I can hear a neon orb smash against a series of buildings, sending the remnants to be spewed across intersections and outdoor shopping malls. My eyes stay locked on what's in front of me though, knowing there is no time to look back. Not anymore.

Every time I pass, street lights flicker, the bulbs sometimes bursting and throwing sparks at my shoulders. One of them stings my neck. I don't bother wincing at the pain though. My thoughts are fluttering from place to place. From the sweet, melancholy of purr of Icarus above, who somehow managed to pass through the recently reconstructed portal with me, to the firm pressure of powder in my left hand.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the blur of a mutated zealot shooting past. The mark of the Dark Dimension burns in my mind, but I linger on it. I remember the first time I saw it. It was in a spellbook my father forbid me from reading, but I did so anyway when I was alone. I remember the disgust I felt even then. The hatred burning for this place in the depths of my soul since age five. I remember it in my dreams that night and the night after and thousands of nights later.

As I step into Time Square I feel the ground boom in preparation. The Time Stone tries to retaliate but I've made up my mind. Staring at my wrist I force the small snake bangle to slither back into my arm where it came from, my needle hopefully going with it. I see the pulsing green in my wrist as another boom shouts across the city like a drummer is beating his hands against the Earth.

I glare up at the apex of the bright purple staircase, remembering the fear I felt the last time I stood here. Now I feel my fear and I don't bother denying. It is there, living, even thriving inside of me. It makes my heart palpitate and my hands' sweat. But there is something else residing inside of me as well. Something much stronger. A courage I thought I lost only a day ago. The emotion provides me with enough strength to keep striding towards the staircase with only one destination.

As I slosh through puddles I call upon memories of the people I'm doing this for.  _I watch Thor point to the stars, teaching about my origins. Him pulling a crinkled drawing from his pocket to teach me about the nine realms and the way they work before promising he'll take me one day. I listen to Bucky recall some ancient memory to embarrass Steve. His subtle smile and his dark hair pulled up so that it isn't falling over his face. Something Nat and I begged him to do for months. I thank Steve for picking me up from school when no one else could. His voice is soft as he asks how my day was and if I ate. I answer no and he sighs before pulling into a parking lot and dragging me into some fast-food restaurant so that he can make sure I at least get something in my stomach. I compare wings with Sam who always insists that it is indeed a competition. His groan as I conjure up the glowing outline before he jokingly demands that Tony upgrades his._

"Dormammu," I call, stopping the memories for a moment. The drummer slams his fist against the Earth again, "let's finish this." As the cloud of smoke rises from the ground and blows past my face I don't bother closing my eyes. I let the thick mist sting my eyes and throat as I conjure more memories.

_Natasha commenting that I should let her do my hair._

"Y/N," Dormammu responds victoriously. The drums go again. "I suppose that you've come to bargain."

_Her, despite my insistent refusal, dragging me to the living room as she combs her fingers through my hair, saying over and over again how if Wanda were here, she'd be making fun of her for hours._

"Yes," I mumble, my mind not allowing me to be loud as I recall these past months. "But I have some additions."

_Aunt May pulling me into her kind arms when Peter decides to bring me to the apartment after school._

"And those are," he asks, unamused for a moment.

_I tell her about something strange that happened today and she smiles one of her sweet, bright smiles that lights up my entire mood no matter what before she declares that I'm staying for dinner to tell her more about my week._

"I give you my magic," I reply. "All of it. The Time Stone, the natural energy I have inside of me that you so desire."

_Tony sitting across the table from me as he shows me the concept design for my suit, his eyes gleaming with both excitement and dedication but also guilt._

"And what do you want in return?" Dormammu doesn't bother shrinking, keeping his original form to intimidate me as much as possible.

_Me looking the hologram over, constantly exclaiming about how beautiful it is, and although I can hear Tony scoff, I can see in his expression that he's glad I love it so much. That he only wants to do what's best for me._

"Let all the people who have taken care of me these past few months live," I proclaim. "No harm will come to them. Not during the entire span of this universe and the next. No loopholes allowed." Dormammu considers it a moment.

_Stephen coaxing back my hair as I bawl, the memory of my first meeting with Dormammu still so fresh and overwhelming my mind. His touch so unbelievably soft for a man with hands made of scars._

"And you will go with your father?" he wonders in his mind rattling voice.

_Me, letting him pull me into his arms, finally admitting to myself that the love he feels for me is nothing less than fatherly. Me, thinking to myself of how much better my life would be if he were._

"I will go with that man," I confirm, finally after so many years telling myself that he does not deserve the title father when I've met a man who does. "I doubt I could have it any other way though." Dormammu smiles.

_And Peter. My Peter laying in my bed and staring at the ceiling with me._

Dormammu extends his large, distorted palm to me. "Then let it be finished." I nod and extend my hand as well. Gripping my magic tight I begin to expel it all from my body. A hoarse scream comes with it, my body feeling like it's exploding as I lose the only thing that had always been with me.

_His fingers circle the back of my palms. I smile when he begins spelling out different phrases on my skin._

The Time Stone tries clinging to my soul but I overpower it using the last of my magic. Dormammu's smile only grows wider as he pulls it into his own hand, finally feeling the power of his harvest.

_**It's all going to be okay** , Peter writes onto the canvas. His warm breath moves against my cheek. It carries unsaid words with it.  **Sorry** 's and  **I love you** 's and so many  **it will get better soon, Y/N I promise** 's. I believe each because even when Peter is lying, he is telling the truth and that is that he loves me. That he cares even if I don't have faith in that fact sometimes. Even when I'm angry and sad and hopeless. _

He loves me. They all do.

As the last of my magic slips away and I feel myself being sucked into a vortex of darkness and light all mixed into one unholy thing I remember how much I believed that Peter was my sun when in fact they all were. They were all my bright, loving sun. They each warmed my wings, making my life better with the rays of pure sunlight they tossed my way every moment they could. I know now that they all warmed my wings. They all coaxed me up into the sky to love me as much as possible. Them, not knowing like I do, that their loving light would be the exact reason I fall.

This was the story of how I came to the end of myself.

I am the Icarus...

And I have loved the sun far too deeply not to burn for it.


	30. Part Twenty-Nine

_I stand on the sidewalk, droplets of rain running past my cotton shirt and the black and blue flannel that is two sizes too big on me. My hair has turned three times darker than usual. The weight of water filling my locks is enough to make the back of my neck ache. Parents and students make this already loud corner of the world even more chaotic. I feel my brain go into overload as I try to focus on one thing._

_Instead, a giant wave of wind blows right into my face. The air, thick with water, blows straight into my ears and the noise around me grows ten times in volume. I sigh and bow my head. Droplets of icy water beat right against my nape, pushing fatigue further on me until I feel like dropping onto the sidewalk._

_“Hi,” a beautiful voice says, abruptly drawing my attention away from all the obnoxious noise. I’m taken aback when I turn to face the kindest face I’ve ever seen. Her cinnamon lips drawn back on her find face to show me a smile. Hands the color of honey are holding onto each other. She holds her head high, seemingly unfazed by the rain. And her eyes, little orbs of purple that are gleaming with light. She keeps up her chin and extends her small hand towards me._

_“You’re Y/N, right?” she wonders. I narrow my eyes and nod slowly, untrusting of anyone who comes up and talks to me so randomly. “I’m Heather. I’m in Mrs. Binford’s class too.”_

My arms curl around my torso, this place that I’ve appeared in somehow both hot and freezing at the same time. This place vacillates between the two extreme temperatures as I wander around, unsure of where I’m going exactly. I actually don’t even know where I am for that matter. All I know is that this entire plain of existence is pure, blaring white. For a moment I try to shield my eyes, but the light attacks from all directions, and I defeatedly drop my hand back onto my side.

_I continue watching the girl in front of me, who I infer is Indian based on the familiarity between her and the second-grade teacher next to our class who speaks with her native accent proudly and will occasionally pass out embroidered silk in history so that we can all inspect it. My hand raises and I shake Heather’s hesitantly. My sleeves are pulled past the base of my fingers so she can’t feel the thick scars lying just beneath._

_“Are you waiting for your parents?” Heather asks and looks at the crosswalk as well. I study the way the rain rolls down her tan cheek. Little white freckles are sprinkled gently under her eyes and across the bridge of her nose reminding me of stars. For being just as young as me she seems otherworldly, and although my dad has never encouraged me to believe in anything besides magic, I know she’s an ancient just from the look of her. She had to have lived millions of lifetimes before this if she can hold her head that high and has such a sing-song voice._

_“I’m walking home, actually,” I inform her matter-of-factly and start crossing the street. I’m glad for the constant noise of parents picking up their children disappearing. But Heather follows me, her brown lace-up boots that aren’t meant for the rain splashing into puddles._

_“I have to walk a little too,” Heather says while catching up with me. She has to widen her steps to keep up, each pace of mine is a little more than one of her normal ones. “Not home though.”_

_I cock an eyebrow, surprised to hear that someone my age walks home alone by themself too. Having become so used to the worried glances from other parents I figured no one else did it._

_“You too?”I question. “Your parents let you walk home alone?” Heather laughs abruptly, revealing her pearly white teeth that are all perfectly set into her mouth, not one straying from where it should be. She hikes her backpack up on her shoulders to keep it from falling off._

_“Your parents let you walk alone,” she remarks, the bite one would expect in a comment such as that non-existent. The only thing I can find in her whole soul is pure compassion. A love that feels more like family than anything I’ve ever known. “Anyways,” Heather begins and casts her gaze up to a sleek black crow that caws on a telephone wire above us, “we’re not walking alone anymore.”_

My fingers dig into my sides, desperate to provide more warmth. I can feel bruises forming under the intensity of my grip so I force my hands up to my face and breathe into them. As I’m doing so an idea pops into my mind. I focus my thoughts and prepare to conjure my magic, only there is nothing to be conjured. All I find within myself is a void of what used to be there. An immortal black hole that looms within, simply waiting for the best moment to take the rest of me away.

I drop my hands enough to stare right at my scarred palms. The angry mark that stretches across the skin to serve as a reminder of what I used to have. Of what I used to be. All I can do is wonder what I am now.

“Oh.”

_I nod, my thoughts racing through my naturally anxious mind. Mine and Heather’s eyes stay connected a moment longer before I look back down at the sidewalk. The water has become much less of a menace and even the rain doesn’t seem so troubling anymore. I start walking with Heather, this time slowing down so we can walk side by side._

_“So,” I drone awkwardly, still very much unsure on how these “social cues” and “conversations” work, “if you’re not walking home then where are you going.” Heather points forward, not once stopping so she can point out a giant brick building a little way down the road. I eye the giant sports fields and the tall black gates. A blue and yellow flag whips around in the rain wildly._

_“My brother is waiting for me there. Midtown high school,” she tells me, the topic already making her excited. “It’s a school for super smart kids. It’s called a ‘STEM’ school.” I think on that for a second, my eyes still fixated on the building._

Tears sting at my eyes now. I feel the need to drop onto the ground and let the chaotic temperature shock me to death. My feet stop moving and I stand in the middle of this infinite wasteland that is nothing more than an abyss to me. I feel my fists shaking by my sides; something that would’ve let my magic loose minutes earlier.

Or has it been hours? I try to think of where I was last. My head to turns to see where I came from but all I see is the white slate. Maybe it’s been more than just hours. I might’ve been wandering this vast place for days, weeks, months. Maybe I’ve been here for years. Maybe all I am is a distant memory to the people I once cared about. Maybe… they’re all already gone and I’m the last one left

_“Do you want to go there,” I ask Heather, genuinely curious and not just acting on the few pleasantries I’ve learned. Heather’s smile grows and she nods ecstatically._

_“Yeah!” she exclaims, her voice becoming a melody. “I want to be one of those cool hackers like in the spies movies I watch with my dad.” Heather turns towards me and grabs my shoulders all of the sudden. It’s like the joy coming off of her in waves radiates into me, making a smile of my own appear. “What about you? What do you wanna do? Maybe science? I think you’d be good at chemistry. My brother hates that class, but I think you’d be awesome. I quickly become overwhelmed because of her pure curiosity and excitable attitude. My mouth opens then closes, and then I look back at the school._

_“I like making stuff,” I reply, thinking off all the things I’ve conjured with magic. Machines, and animals, and plants. “Is there anything for that?” Heather’s smile widens even more._

_“Engineering!” she shouts loud enough for the entire block to hear. “You could totally do that! We can go to Midtown together and you can make the machines and I can put the computer stuff into them. We could be a spy team!” I watch as Heather explains what we will be doing the next ten years of our lives, a strange adoration I’ve never known lighting up everyone neuron in my brain._

I run my hands through my tangled hair, yanking some strands out of my school with a soft snapping noise that I can only ignore. Tears begin to fall from my bottom lashes and onto my hot cheeks. My eyes snap around wildly, hoping that if I look hard enough some sort of exit may appear before me. There is nothing though. Just a void for me to lose my mind in. A process that is nearly complete already.

_I sit on the creaky swings with Heather. Her raven hair is blown back by the intense winds, revealing how her lavender eyes have focused on something far in the distance. There is a thick book in my lap. One that my teacher recommended that I didn’t read since it was so advanced. My eyes aren’t on the text though. They’re on my best friend of seven months who has not spoken a single word throughout the entire day. I huge feat for her._

_“Y/N?” Heather murmurs her first word of the day. I can barely catch my name before it’s taken away by the wind. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”_

A crow caws somewhere. My head lifts upwards and I shoot my bloodshot eyes around to find the source. The tears stop falling and I finally have a moment to breathe in and out, accepting the air that has somehow turned to a consistent temperature of about twenty degrees. A smile spreads over my lips as I stare towards an invisible horizon, prepared to see a beacon of hope in a place that I believed sucked hope dry.

_I’m immediately taken aback by Heather’s question. My eyes study Heather whose brows have been knitted together as she gazes at the hazy horizon with clouds building over every skyscraper in sight._

_“I guess so.” I remember when I first met her. How I automatically knew that she was an old soul by the way she held herself and spoke. To this day, I’m still a firm believer of that fact. “Why are you asking?" Heather bites the inside of her cheek, asking herself whether or not she should answer._

_“Last night my brother said that it was all a lie. My religion,” she informs me. I twist the chains of my swing further so I can face her entirely. “He said there is no Kali or Ganesha and that there definitely isn’t reincarnation. He said it’s all a big fat lie to keep me from being bad.” I see the tears rimming her gleaming purple eyes. It takes every ounce of control I have in my small body to keep my panic from revealing itself._

_I push myself forward on the swing, taking my time to think of an honest answer for Heather because that is what she deserves. “I think he could be right,” I answer, “but I also think that you could be right. I don’t think we’re meant to know for sure if there is someone special out there watching over us.” I bite my lip and shrug, taking a moment to close my book. “That wasn’t very nice of him to say that though, and I think that’s what made him wrong. No one knows that truth for sure. We just have faith. Some people have faith that there are gods, others have faith that there is one god, and some people have faith that there isn’t. We can only have faith in what we believe is right.” I watch the skyline too now, the beauty of the sun dipping below the buildings unbelievable._

The caw grows louder and I can hear the beating of wings as my friend approaches from wherever she may be now.

_“You are allowed to believe whatever you want to believe and no one can take that away from you,” I reassure before taking her hand in mine and looking back at the schoolyard where other kids play._

_Then we’re silent again. Heather’s raven black hair is blown backward by the wind. We both swing back and forth simultaneously as to not put any strain on each other’s arm._

_“I’d like to be reincarnated as a crow,” she mumbles randomly. “I like crows. They’re pretty and smart.” I smile and look at my best friend._

_“You’d be a really good crow,” I say back, confidence lining each letter. I think of what I’d like to be reincarnated as. I’ve never taken too much of an interest in most animals until Heather began pointing them all out to me, calling them by both there scientific name and short names. I think if I wanted to be reincarnated as anything, I’d want to be Heather’s sister._

_Heather purses her lips, a habit I had noticed her mother doing when she would occasionally pick her up from school. She turns towards me, the chains holding the swing up creaking quietly. “Do you believe in magic, Y/N?” she asks. Her eyes lock onto me. I look down at my muddy shoes as I swing forward a bit, the only thing reminding me not to go so high I could fly away being the strain of Heather’s hand holding mine. Once my feet rub against the wood chips again, sending them flying to the sides, I look around._

“Icarus!” I shout, my voice cracking with every syllable but I find that I don’t care. I can hear my friend coming to me. Her wings flapping as hard as possible to reach me.

_I twist towards Heather again, this time an intensity has settled into my eyes. “You have to promise not to tell anyone, okay Heather?” My friend gives me a confused look. “You need to pinky promise you will never, ever tell another soul about what I’m going to show you. Do you pinky promise on your life you won’t?” Heather glances around, almost looking for confirmation of what I just said._

_“Yes?” she whispers back, the response sounding more like a question than a promise. I accept it though and pull my hands away from the metal chains. Hesitantly, I cup them and place them against my lips, beginning a simple conjuring spell. I watch closely as the young me executes the spell completely and places her two closed hands in Heather’s open ones. Slowly, she opens them, revealing a tiny butterfly._

“Icarus!” I try again. My hair whips over my face as I turn quickly, the direction fo where the noise is coming from still hard to decipher.

_Heather’s jaw drops as she looks at my creation. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips as she raises the butterfly to inspect the small thing. I giggle lightly and raise her hands into the air, releasing the butterfly so that it may fly somewhere where it will be safe from the strong winds._

_“So,” Heather drones as she watches the dark blue creature disappear, “you’re like a witch.” I chuckle again._

_“I guess,” I confirm. “I like to think I’m a good witch though.” Heather’s grip on my hand tightens and she pulls me closer, nearly yanking me right off the swing._

_“You’re like Glinda,” she yelps joyfully. “Glinda the good witch!”_

One last screech is released into the void, the noise reverberating all around me. Then the beating of wings finishes and I’m left to wait and see if what I heard was real and not just me going mad.

All of the sudden I feel a pulse of energy behind me. I don’t dare turn around out of fear of what it could be. My father, done tormenting me and finally collecting me from this place so that he can take me to his "utopia". Dormammu, who has broken his promise and instead trapped me here with him so he may torture me with my own deepest fears. My friends. My family, standing around me, all of them dead because there was never any hope of us all surviving in the first place.

“Hey Glinda,” a melodious voice says behind me, shocking me straight from my imagination. I dare not turn around as I track the familiarity of the voice. I think of how every syllable sounds like a ballad, how there is a natural trill in her voice one would believe took years to master. I think of her voice, an eternal hymn that people sing on their holy grounds. My heart skips a beat, then another, and then it starts racing again, the realization dawning over me like the sun rising over the New York skyscrapers.

_I walk past the alleyway next to our deteriorated apartments. It takes me only a second to sense something wrong before I turn down the dark street. Then I see them. My father and Heather. She has her hands weakly raised above her head, fearing and preparing for the next blow._

I stand and take a deep breath before finally turning to look her in the eye. Her pale purple irises stare right into mine, unafraid to look at me after so many years of being apart. She has developed a natural wave in her once entirely straight, obsidian hair. It dips just past her shoulders. Her smile is glowing with pure white teeth, the sight of something so sincere so striking in this strange place.

_He doesn’t go for her head though. He conjures a blade in his hand instead and thrusts it straight into her abdomen. And then everything's a blur._

_My magic thrumming inside as I use it to throw him away from my best friend. **My sister.**  He flies ten yards and then collides with a brick wall. Even though I have stopped him I know I haven’t won because I see Heather gasping for air. Her entire face coated with her own dark blood, her hand reaching towards me, and the beautiful purple I love more than anything in the world, the strange and lovely mutation she was named for is fading from her eyes, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it._

_All I can do is cry as I drag her to the hospital, praying that she’ll get the chance to be reincarnated as a crow._

I take one step forward, then another, and then I feel as though I’m floating towards the girl who has, despite the four-month difference, grown slightly taller than me. She waits, patient as ever while I approach, fearing deep in my heart that if I go to quick she may disappear like she did all those years ago. All of the sudden, I’m standing right in front of her. My hand lifts without my permission and brushes against the skin of her shoulder, testing to make sure she isn’t an illusion.

“Heather?” I ask finally. Her smile grows wider somehow as she opens her arms to embrace me.

“I'm here,” she begins, "and you can always call me Icarus if you like that better." And then I’m hugging her tight. Tighter than I’ve ever held anyone. Heather laughs happily and pulls me against her as well, and suddenly all the pain of carrying her quaking body into the hospital emergency room fades. I can no longer feel the way her blood felt coating my hands or the way she whispered my name as the nurse brought her to the emergency room.

And there are so many questions I could ask. How long has she been with me for? Did she plan on falling into the courtyard that day or was that a simple coincidence? How many times did she come back? How many times until she finally came back as the crow? As my Icarus?

I find no reason to ask though. Heather’s here now. My sister, who was the first member of my peculiar family is holding me against her no longer petite body, her love for me rolling from her heart in droves and warming up every aching muscle in my body. As she and I are clinging to each other I think of every crow I ever saw after her death. I think of them all as Heather. Heather watching over me every day like a guardian angel. Heather coming back over and over again as her favorite animal, becoming my own personal flock to protect me no matter what.


	31. Part Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh geez... I am sosososo sorry for disappearing! I hope you guys enjoy these upcoming chapters though and thank you to everyone who is sticking around!!!!!

“How can I survive this without my magic, Heather?” I wonder, already sensing that the vortex is trying to suck me up again. We’ve been walking for a long time, though I have no idea how long. Time is non-existent here and the miles we walk become the ones in front of us. Everything here is simply infinite. Well... as simple as infinity can get.

Heather smiles softly, as always, knowing something I don’t. “It’s your magic, Y/N.”

“No, it’s not,” I whisper, despair settling in like a cruel disease. “I gave it to Dormammu. I’m not a sorceress anymore. I’m not the Bluebird.”

“Glinda…” Heather murmurs sweetly, using the ancient nickname before grabbing my hand and holding against her chest. “Your magic is your soul, and as long as you’re alive your soul will want to come home.” She turns away from me, looking into the white abyss. I follow her eyes and immediately shrink backward. A swirling, opalescent hurricane has opened up overhead. Fearing the worst, I look at my free hand. My suspicions are confirmed where I see my fingers fading into dust before being sucked into the vortex.

“Heather-” I have to measure the questions I could ask in a split second. “What’s happening?” I finally murmur in a desperate voice.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” she asserts. “What does is that you escape. You can only do it with magic.”

“Which I don’t have,” I remind her, growing slightly impatient. Suddenly a look spreads over her face. The look. The look she’d give me everything time she came up with a horrible idea, and I already know what her idea is. “No,” I growl, indignant even when I’m running out of time. “There is no way I’m doing that Heather.”

“Why not?” I roll my eyes and spare the hurricane another frightened glace.

“Because he won’t just give up his magic to me, and I obviously can’t take it.” I hold up my hands frustratedly, showing her that I don’t have the magic to pull my father’s away from him. “I have nothing, and it wouldn’t even be enough to get me out of the hell hole he’s going to throw me in!” I feel guilty for being angry towards Heather after so many years of not seeing her- of believing she was dead. After everything though, after being tortured and haunted and taken advantage of it’s so easy to be angry. Even with Heather.

Despite my outburst, her eyes remain patient though. Her loving purple eyes. “Then fight,” she whispers, and I finally catch a glimpse of something unusual in her eyes. Guilt. Like she’s in on some sort of universal secret I don’t know about. I open my mouth to say something back, but instead, I’m only left with her voice murmuring ideas straight to my mind.

**_Take in your surroundings._ **

When I open my eyes tears that I hadn’t even known existed are streaming down my cheeks. I’m on a bed. One softer than even the one at the base. The springs don’t ache below me as I draw in a deep, patient breath. Everything here is white. There’s no detail, just absence. The only thing with color is the different picture frames sitting on the desk and bookshelves. Ones I can’t remember. Ones that are absolutely and entirely fake.

**_Things are going to be warped._ **

I stand up from the sofa bed and step towards a bookshelf. On it is a beautifully framed photo. The photo itself is from what seems to be three years ago based on the appearance of my face. I look like I’m thirteen in it. Old enough to trick people into letting me work. To my right is my father, smile glowing on his face in a way I have never seen before, and to my left is a beautiful woman. She has to be just about my height now, and her long, y/h//c hair matches my own. My mom.

**_It will be based on your father’s mind and everything he’s created_ **

Across the room, I see the glimmer of a mirror. Turning around slowly, I begin to approach the corner in which it stands ominously, ready to show me something just as frightening as this place. As soon as I see myself in the mirror I take a step back. I don’t recognize the girl I just saw. She is unscathed with soft, beautiful skin and hair that seems to gleam in the dim lighting of this room. She is lovely. The image of an angel. There are no ugly scars that mark up her body. Again, I begin walking towards the mirror, this time keeping my eyes locked onto myself. The only similarity I see between the two of us is our eyes, which both hold the same fear.

**_He will have made everything to be perfect._ **

I close my eyes and concentrate on Heather’s voice.

**_Ruin his perfection._ **

I open my eyes and look towards the exit.

**_Destroy it._ **

Gulping, I stumble to the doorway.

**_Sow chaos into his order._ **

Staring at the door frame I swear I can see a green haze peeking through. Just like the apartment.

**_Ravage against everything that place is._ **

I brace myself once more and place my hand on the cold, bronze knob.

**_Fight, Y/N._ **

My hand quakes against the metal. In fact, my whole body does and no matter how hard I will it, it won’t stop.

**_Fight for me._ **

I close my eyes and tighten my grip on the handle, trying to push away my fear

**_Fight for those who raised you._ **

I suck in a big breath, praying that the extra oxygen may help to slow my racing, aching heart.

**_Fight for Peter._ **

I listen closely as the door clicks. My entire body shudders as I open my eyes to stare through the small crack I’ve just created. Through it drifts in the smell of cinnamon, and coffee, and, if I’m not mistaken, chocolate chip cookies.

**_Most importantly Y/N…_ **

Realizing the air I’ve trapped in my lungs I swing the door open and straighten myself. I clench my free fist and glare at the man and woman who are sitting silently at the table opposite to me.

**_Fight for yourself…_ **

Everything, every atom in the room, stops as both my parents, the man who I hate and the woman I have never known look towards me, gaping out of absolute bewilderment. My grip on the door handle tightens so much I’m afraid that I may just break it. Knowing it is more likely that I will hurt myself I drop the hand to my side.

**_Because there is no one in there who can do it for you._ **

“Y/N,” my father, murmurs in an uncharacteristically soft voice. It takes everything inside of me not to throw myself at him and rip the man to shreds with my bare hands. Instead, I just let my eyes snap to him, fire filling them. “Come sit with us.” He reaches across the table and grabs the woman's hand who visibly shrinks under his touch. My eyes meet her’s suddenly, and I feel my heart quench. I see everything I am in her. Scared eyes. _Oh god, we’re both so scared._

“I made cinnamon rolls,” she nods at me, and I immediately understand that she isn’t telling me, but warning me. I gulp and take another glance at my father. Although his expression is still soft I can see the slight strain in his expression.

My fingers unwrap themselves so they are no longer clenched and I try to force some sort of pleasantness into my expression. Biting my lip, I make my way towards the table. My mother has already made me a plate and wordlessly she slides it towards me as I take a seat.

“Thank you,” I mumble my first words in this warped place. When I look up she smiles at me softly and I find myself curious about what exactly she’s thinking of. I wonder if she’s imagining a different lifetime. One where my father and husband wasn’t so cruel. One where she was allowed the chance to raise me throughout my childhood. One where I could learn magic on my own terms. One where I was loved day in and day out. One where she taught me how to be strong and how to fight. One where she helped pick out homecoming dresses and threatened the boys who’d come by the house.

“Of course Y/N,” my mom whispers back. Her voice is not sweet. It is hoarse from a hundred battle cries. She has scars over the entire extent of her body. Ones on her collar bones that have turned a pale shade of their original tone. There are puffy brands that seem to be the result of brands. On her arm, the only part of her that doesn’t seem to be marked by pain, is the mark of the Valkrie. She follows my eyes to the dark brown tattoo and smiles. There’s something reminiscent in her eyes. Like somehow, serving Asgardian royalty was a simpler time. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

Wordlessly, I cut through my cinnamon roll, keeping my eyes down. Both of their eyes are on me. I can feel them.

Even as my father reaches his other hand across the table to cover mine I keep my eyes on my food. She had to have had a reason for why she interfered before I let my anger get the best of me. When his ice-cold hand lands on mine I flinch. Goosebumps appear on my forearms and I shiver as quietly as I can manage.

“Now Icarus,” I feel the need to choke on the nickname. No one has called me that in six years. The last time I heard it was the day before my tenth birthday. “I know this is a big change, but I just want you to know the rules.” I furrow my brows and look up at him through a thin curtain of hair.

“Rules?” I question. My voice is alarmingly vulnerable.

“Of course.” My father’s grip on my hand tightens suddenly, and I feel my knuckles crack. “All you need to do is listen to me.” Unable to stop myself, I scoff and look back down at my cinnamon roll.

“It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” my mother pleads from her spot on the table. Suddenly, I begin wondering how many of those scars really happened in battle.

“You take away my magic, my choice,” I throw my fork down on the plate, “my family.” All of the sudden my father yanks me towards him. My ribcage hits the edge of the table and I wince out loud, pain bursting through my chest. The second I look up I’m faced with my father, whose eyes are filled with molten lava. I don’t shrink under his gaze though. Something about my mother has given me back my iron heart so that I can face him with my head held high.

“We are your family, Y/N,” he retorts, his voice stern. I scowl and shake my head side to side.

“To me,” I rip away from his grasp, “you are the man who destroyed my childhood, and she is just the women I’ve met in my dreams. You are not my family, and you cannot control me.”

Everyone is silent as though we’re waiting to see if I back down. I’m even waiting for my resolve to falter. It doesn’t though. My eyes stay cold, indifferent to the man in front of me, and after so many years of his torture and abuse and manipulations, I see all the power in his eyes fade away. He has nothing left to hurt me, and therefore he has lost control.

Finally, he drops his eyes and reaches to grab his napkin. I watch attentively as he rubs the white cloth against the corners of his mouth, his eyes still cast down. My mother’s fear rolls off her shoulders and towards me, but I do not look away. When my father looks up again he’s angry, yet he doesn’t know where to put it all.

Abruptly, he stands from the table, the legs of his chair screeching against the marble floors. I watch as he numbly tosses the napkin onto his plate. My mother, on the other hand, bows her head and goes back to picking at her food. Once he can manage to look me in my eyes my father glares down at me, raising his finger accusingly.

“I want this place cleaned up by the time I get back for dinner.” My expression remains blank as my father stalks over to a hallway that I assume leads to an exit. Both my mom and I watch as he disappears. Once he’s gone her eyes are on the side of my head again. I swallow and tear off a piece of my roll.

* * *

 

I’ve walked throughout the entire house five times over, but I still can’t get used to it. As a child, it was everything I hoped for. It’s all so pure. Everything is so perfect. Even the air. Breathing it in I find that it smells like the ocean. There are windows covering an entire wall, and they all look out on an infinite sea of clouds. Everything is white. The floors are white marble, the ceilings are white arches. It’s like this place has been waiting for my arrival so that I may color it myself.

I think this is everything I wanted. When I was young at least. I wanted a place that felt pure, a place where I felt pure, but now I want nothing more than to be sitting at the kitchen island, basking in the rays of the real sun, which I have taken for granted so much, as Peter traces the scars covering my hands. The only imperfections in this entire place are the ones that cover my mother. I don’t even have imperfections anymore. He’s taken those away as well.

“It’s beautiful out there,” she remarks behind me, as though just the thought of my mom summoned her. “It reminds me of Asgard,” my mom continues under her breath as she slowly approaches the windows. “I loved it there, you know? It was always so beautiful.” I turn towards her, curiosity getting the best of me.

“Then why did you come to Earth,” I question. My mother smiles, remembering.

“I suppose it was my disregard for authority that prompted them to exile me.” She places a scarred hand against the glass. The clouds seemingly shift beneath her gaze, and I’m stunned to see them part, revealing the true, pearly ocean beneath.

“Glad to know where I got it from,” I scoff, trying my hardest to hide my amazement. Glad to know where I got everything from.

“I know I’m not your mother, Y/N,” she informs all of the sudden, and I find myself at an immediate loss for words. “I have no right to be. I wasn’t there for any of it. Your childhood.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” I remind her.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t my daughter, nor are you your father’s.” She beams at the beautiful sky, shining its perfection down on us. “I believe someone else deserves that honor far more than us.” I find myself gawking at the women before me, finding something about her so very unbelievable. I don’t understand how I can see so much of myself in her, and how she can see just as much of herself in me, and yet she understands that I can’t think of her as my… mom. I know she is. I know she and I share blood, but she isn’t my mom, and it is so incredibly amazing to me that she knows that.

“How’d you end up with that monster?” I laugh quietly. She’s so good and kind and the fact that she managed to end up with my father is unfathomable.

“He wasn’t always a monster. Before Dormammu found him, he was good, Y/N. He was a man who could’ve loved you properly.” Tears rim her eyes as she remembers a man who I do not know. “He called you Icarus before you were born, too.”

“Well, it’s not really endearing, huh?” I shake my head and look out at the endless sky. “He told me that story to remind me that I am not permitted to fly away. That’s how he phrased it you know. Fly away. Every damn time. He always said it like I was a goddamn broken bird that couldn’t escape.” I wish that I could take hold of my magic at this moment, but it is gone. It can’t rumble in my fingertips anymore.

“That wasn’t the reason he called you Icarus before you were born,” she informs confidently. “In Asgard, we had our own version of the story.” The woman looks to me, our eyes mirroring each other. “An intelligent father created wax wings so that he and his son may escape a cruel king, but the child, Icarus, flew too close to the sun. I assume you know what happens next.”

“Of course,” I mumble. “He falls to the ocean and drowns. His father drags him out and curses his own genius. I’ve heard it a thousand times.”

“Icarus didn’t drown.” My mom looks at me closely. “She fell to the waves and she sunk, and sunk, and sunk, but she never hit the ocean floor. Instead, she was reborn on the other side with wings made of sunlight.” Suddenly, she grabs onto both of my shoulders and turns me towards her. There is an intensity in her eyes that I have yet to know from her. “It’s time for you to fly away, Y/N, and I know how.”

* * *

 


	32. Announcement (You can ignore it if it so pleases you)

I have a very quick announcement!

Really quick I want to apologize for leaving you all in the dark for so long. It's been a rough couple months and I've barely found the motivation to do much. Still, it was wrong of me not to tell you what is going on with Fly Away and my other stories if you read them. I've still received many of your kind messages of encouragement, especially regarding this story. 

Before I continue, I'm just going to say that I am not deleting or ending Fly Away now. I've put way too much effort into the series and there are way too many people who have enjoyed this story to do that. I am, however, going on an  **indefinite** hiatus... meaning I have no clue when I will be beginning this work again.

Don't doubt that I loved this story because I have. For the past year, Fly Away has been a huge part of my life. It has inspired me in so many ways and my writing significantly improved through each chapter! Because of it, I have grown a lot in my skills. This brings me to my next point...

I'm writing a novel!!! ~~Rather rewriting it but whatever.~~

Two years ago I began a story that has impacted my life so much beyond writing and fandoms and all that crazy, fun stuff, but also in the real world. It is the story that made me want to pursue a real career in writing, even if it was fruitless in the beginning. So much of my own life has been impacted by this project and when I dropped it was when I began getting more depressed and dispassionate. After almost six months of not touching the first or second draft, I've decided to pick it up again.

Already this WIP has taken up so much time. One of the big reasons being that I scrapped the entire first and second draft. Throughout the last half of my first semester, I began making brand new character boards, outlining the new plot and, of course, rewriting. When I introduced it to some of my closest writer friends and my mutuals on Tumblr they loved it! It made me realize this complex story of mine could have a future. This is a project that I'm passionate about. I wanna put my whole entire mind, heart, body, and soul into this book and the ones that come after.

This sadly means leaving behind Fly Away for the time being. I don't want to promise a date it will return because I genuinely don't know. All I know is that I want to be able to put in the same amount of emotion into this story that I'm putting into my novel. That will only happen with time. 

I want to say thank you for everyone who has been reading Fly Away since the beginning and also to those who would binge it throughout a single night. Your comments and kudos and love meant everything to me! I don't think this story would've gone so far without you in the first place. In fact, I wouldn't have been able to grow more and more into the writer I want to be someday.

Again, I'm sorry to announce this so late. You guys certainly deserved to know earlier. If any of you have questions regarding a more detailed explanation for my absence or what it is that I'm even writing just shoot a message either to my email, **original.enigma26@gmail.com** , or my Tumblr, **@kenny-d-juice**. 

\- Kennedy


	33. Part 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got really inspired to keep writing this story all of a sudden????? So I might actually finish this by the end of my Spring break!!??  
> Also, I just want to thank everyone who supported me writing a novel. I love you all so much and you've helped me so much as a writer.

“What?”

The words are raspy, weak and most of all desperate. In all that desperation I feel something powerful though. _Hope._

My mother grabs my shoulders and drags me away from the window. I follow her without asking any questions. We stop in a dark corner where the sun can’t quite reach. Her eyes are pulling in every detail of my face and I do the same. Scared eyes have turned into fearless ones in a matter of seconds and I see myself in them.

_There’s a way for me to get back home._

“I can only help you for the first part of the plan,” she tells me in a low voice. “Then it’s up to you.” Joy fills my lungs, my heart. Every nerve in my body electrifies. Laughter bubbles up in my throat and I let it out. _I can go home._ “You just need to be willing to do anything, Y/N.”

“Of course,” I reply excitedly. _Home. Peter. Strange. Tony. Natasha. Bruce. Steve. Clint._ “I’ll do anything if it means going home.”

I want to stay this happy but the frown that appears on my mom’s face tell me otherwise. She bites her lower lip and nods before replacing it with a soft smile. Then I see the thin layer of tears in her eyes.

“Mom?”

“You are going home,” she reinforces. “No matter what.”

I fall silent enough to hear the whistle of wind outside the windows. My mom swallows hard. Her throat bobs and I hear the near silent gasp for air that rises from her mouth. I narrow my eyes, realizing that whatever she’s crying about, it can’t be good.

“What’s the plan, mom?” She doesn’t answer at first. Instead, she shakes her head side to side and gazes out the window. “ _Mom?_ ”

“The only way you’re going to beat your father and take his magic is if you have magic of your own.”

It only takes me a second to connect the dots.

“No.”

“Y/N—”

“I refuse,” I growl. “I wholeheartedly, eternally refuse.” Turning to leave, I remove my gaze from her. My mom is quick though and before I know it she has me back where I was. Any tears that I may have seen earlier are gone. Her eyes have hardened into that of a warrior’s and I finally see the Valkyrie that she used to be.

“Peter needs you,” she reminds me. The name is a bullet through my heart. _Peter._ “Your family needs you, Y/N. You cannot give up on yourself because that means giving up on them.” I’m ready for her to continue the lecture, but my mom pulls me into her chest instead. I bask in her warmth. Warmth that is meant to be a goodbye.

“The last time I killed someone I vomited,” I whisper.

“I know.” Her rough fingers brush through my hair. “Please try not to do that this time.” I laugh. Truly laugh, but it turns into a quick sob by the end and I push my nose into her hair. Marking each scent in my head I commit every detail of her to memory. Fire and rain and melted iron. I smell a million battles and a billion more tears. Somehow, I smell myself. _Magic._ Magic and sunrises and coffee shops next to dirty back alleys. I live inside of her. From the moment I existed I have been engraved in the fabric of her being.

After today she will live in me.

“I wish I could’ve been your mom,” she tells me. “I wish I could’ve dressed you for your first day of kindergarten. I wish I could’ve shown you how to braid your hair like I used to for battles. I wish I taught you how to fight back and use the Asgardian side of your magic properly. I wish I could’ve helped you get ready for your first date. I wish I could’ve been your mom.”

I’m sobbing silently, my tears smeering against her skin. I have to keep reminding myself of home. _Home. You can go home._

But it requires sacrifice.

I move my right hand against the side of her ribcage so that I can hear the steady thumping of her heart. She is not scared. Just sad.

I pull just enough magic from inside of her. Enough to feel that familiar weight in my wrist.

She still holds me.

I nuzzle her neck and whisper, “You are my mom.”

The needle shoots out.

My mom goes limp in my arms.

She still holds me.

“I love you.”

I pray she hears me.

The weight slowly disappears from my arms. When I glance down at where my needle sliced through her heart I see only golden light. Pure, beautiful light crafted from a thousand burning suns.

I feel it surge into me. It is her; my mother, a woman forged in fires of pain and loss and hope. Her magic lives in me, and therefore so does she.

“Thank you.” I retract my needle so that it is snug beneath my skin again and turn towards the exit. A door opens and closes outside, there is the sound of footsteps and a presence of hateful magic I’d know anywhere.

My mom died so I might get home.

I will not let that sacrifice be in vain.

 

* * *

 

He does not notice me at first. He does not care to.

I never forgot what magic feels like thrumming through your veins. What it feels like when you’re angry, or sad, and excited and it fills up the tips of your fingers so they buzz. It feels like life. It feels like a first kiss or swimming with sharks. It feels like freedom. It feels like flying away.

“I’m going home,” I announce, startling him. He twirls around and the rage on his face is apparent. For the first time, I don’t flinch at the familiarity in that expression. I revel in what it reveals instead. Because there is fear in his eyes. Fear I never thought existed as he beat me mentally and physically, as he killed my best friend and abandoned me.

I am something to be feared, and for the first time, I don’t fear that.

“Excuse me?”

I smirk and tilt my head to the side. My black needle whispers as it slides out of my arm. His eyes dart to the dark weapon.

“Where’s your mother?”

A pang of guilt shoots through my chest but there is a reassuring warmth as well. It’s her. She wants me to end this.

I wonder, how afraid can I make him before though?

“I killed her,” I say plainly. It is partially true, though she was already dead in a way. All that remained was her soul. A soul she was willing to give me. “I needed her magic.”

Deep inside my heart, I hope to see something close to grief on my father’s face. That’s what one should feel when they lose someone they love. There is only that hot anger though.

“So this is what it comes down to?” he steps closer to me. There is the sound of wood twisting and metal singing. The lights above flicker. “A fight?” A crack appears in the wall next to me and splinters down to the floor. The ceiling growls.

“Let’s call it a battle just for theatrics,” I say, swing my needle through the air. It strikes the floor in a flurry of sparks. The marble splits beneath the edge and a puff of dust curls up. “We always did love those.”

He smirks. “That suggests that there has been a war.”

“Hasn’t there?” I smile cruelly. “A silent war and we’re almost to the final battle.” My dad shakes his head, his smirk fading until there is only a frown.

“I brought you here so we could be a family.” He swings his arms out to gesture to the whole house. “Now look what you’ve done.” The ceiling above me cracks and I only have a moment to jump away before I’m crushed. I cough out the rubble that found its way to my lungs and glare up.

“You brought me here so I could be controlled.” I use my needle to help my stand. “But I’m free now. There’s no more lies, no more excuses or explanations, there's no power that you hold that I will allow to hold me down.”

Without hesitation, I clench my fist and the rest of the house comes crumbling down. Amidst the chaos, I hear nothing but my own heartbeat. Now that I think about it, I don’t think it is that. It is my magic, my life that is humming in my ears, telling me what my next move needs to be. The dust, broken metal, and destroyed drywall around me rises. It floats behind my back, transforming until I feel that familiar weight on my back. I glare through the oblivion at my dad.

We make eye contact and I roll back my shoulders. I hear the snap of my wings pulling me off the ground. I see the blue in the corner of my eyes and raise and hand to my throat where the choker Tony gave me remains. I press my fingers against it and release the suit. The navy blue scales soon cover my entire body.

“Dad,” I say, “I was born with wings. It’s time for me to fly.”

His relic appears out of nowhere. My dad takes aim but I do not move away.

I fly forward.

Bolts of magic shoot towards me. Luckily for me, he is meaning to incapacitate me, but not kill. Luckily for me, I mean to do the opposite.

Before each of us realizes it, I’m crashing into him. We slam into the ground hard and my wings turn into a bright blue halo around me. I get onto my feet as quick as I can, but his hands have already found my throat and he’s yanking me to my feet. Shortening my needle, I stab him under his arm, barely missing my mark. He hisses and drops me. His attention is drawn to the blood running out of him long enough for me to gather myself.

“You’re a great disappointment,” he growls under his breath. He’s searching for whatever words might disarm me the most. “My greatest regret.”

My needle drops to its full length. “Yeah?” I pant. “I’m sure plenty of people feel that way about you.”

He lunges at me without warning. It’s so sudden that I don’t have time to prepare myself for his attack. His relic runs through my skin, scraping against the lower side of my hip before exit my body entirely. I gasp and swing desperately.

By his hiss of pain, I assume I must’ve hit something. It’s only when he falls to his knees, his arms still trapping me, that I realize it was his leg I hit.

He pushes me away from him. I roll backward, the sting of his relic making me disoriented as my fingers lose contact with my needle.

My magic whispers that it’s time to finish this and it doesn’t taking any persuading for me to agree. I clench my fist while I’m beginning to turn back over. A weapon forms in my hand. When I get back to my knees, I’m aiming a gun at my father’s head.

He glares at me as he pulls my needle out of his leg. It went through his calf. My weapon rings against the broken marble tiles.

“You know I’ve always hated guns,” he reminds me. “They’re so ineloquent.”

“I don’t care.” His expression falls and I finally see the entire truth of who the man before me is. _A coward._

“Are you prepared for what happens after you kill me, Y/N?” I cock my head to the side. “Once you kill me, and if you manage to defeat Dormammu, what happens then? You’ve lived your whole life with us guiding you. Every step you’ve taken, every move you’ve mad and fight you’ve had, we were there pushing you to our end goal,” he explains. I furrow my brows and open my mouth to refute his statement, but it is the truth. They have been the invisible hand throughout my whole life. All my decisions were influenced by them.

“You think you will become a hero?” he laughs. “A civilian? Maybe even a villain one day?” I drop the gun just a bit, but it is enough to show that I actually might believe him. “Whatever you do, it will be influenced by me, by the experiences you’ve had because of me. You’ll never escape my hold. I’ll always be a nagging voice in your head, one that you will listen to. I’ll always be a part of you, Y/N. You can’t kill me in any way that matters.”

And he might be right, but then I remember the moments that prove he is wrong because it was never their intention for me to become friends with Heather. If it was they wouldn’t have gotten her out of the picture as soon as they realized. It was their divine interference that made me talk to Peter in class nor was it them that made me text him that same day. I might’ve stayed with the Avengers because of my father, but they became my family because I wanted that.

Maybe he did influence me, maybe he will continue you influencing me, but their have been decisions that I have made only because of myself. Because no one told me to make Heather my sister. No one told me to fall in love with Peter. No one told me to find a home with the Avengers. Those were my decisions.

_You can’t kill me in any way that matters._

I raise the gun.

“I can try.”

My finger pulls back on the trigger and it clicks. There is no bullet but my father’s eyes become glassy, and at the center of his forehead his skin fades into golden light. It surges towards me and I accept it. His dirty magic. It is what I need to get back home.

_Home. Peter. Strange. Tony. Natasha. Bruce. Steve. Clint._

I remind myself over and over again. Their names become a mantra.

_Home. Peter. Strange. Tony. Natasha. Bruce. Steve. Clint. Home. Peter. Strange. Tony. Natasha. Bruce. Steve. Clint._

_Peter._ Peter.

I stare into my pocket where I put the dust Strange gave me. My lips curl upwards into a soft smile.

_I’m proud of you… And I know you will do the right thing, even when I’m gone._

Strange always knew what I’d have to do. There’s no other way he’d no to give me this. I pull as much of the dust as I can out of my pocket. With my other hand, I open my palm of the substance and call upon magic that I still have yet to take back.

_Y/N… Your magic is your soul, and as long as you’re alive your soul will want to come home._

All of the sudden green light appears around my fingers. The sigils swirl around. I watch, entirely awestruck as the dust recollects into its original form. Soon, the full weight of my sling ring is resting in my hands.

_Home._

I turn my face towards the light and feel all the warmth it has to offer.

_I’m going home._

My feet kick up rubble as I walk towards my needle that lays discarded between what used to be the kitchen table.

_I’m taking back my home._

I hold out my hand and call it back to my arm where it will only have a moment to rest.

_I’m going to kill Dormammu._

I raise one hand while making circles with the other. Magic sparks in front of me and I see a glimmer of Earth.

_I’m going to be a hero._

I raise my head, look towards the New York skyline where the sun used to rise and step through the portal.

_I’m coming home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have a surprise for my readers on the last chapter of this story :))))))))))))) ;)


	34. Part 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damnnnnnnn... Two chapters in a day. At this rate Fly Away might be done by tomorrow! Hope you guys enjoy.

I like to think of myself as an eloquent sorceress. One that is certainly on the dramatic side, but eloquent and graceful nonetheless.

This may be the clumsiest, most inept thing I have ever done.

It will definitely annoy Dormammu though.

“Come out ass hat!” I scream as I clench my fist and mimick pulling something down. Behind me, a skyscraper follows my movement and comes crashing down. I listen to the boom of stone and metal crashing and bending. The dust bursts behind my back but I don’t pay any mind to it. I have more important things to think of.

My mom meant it when she said I was on my own after she left. Handling my dad was easy, but Dormammu is a whole other issue. One that required relentless planning. Now I know exactly what I need to do to win against him. Tony would think it’s a horrible idea. Stephen might kill me for it if it didn’t kill me. Peter would probably faint from the first sentence. It’s the only way to win though. There’s no other option. 

“Let’s go Dorma-bitch!” I pull down another building. This one smashes against the building that he usually sits on. “I have a complaint to make.”

I’m starting to get worried. If he doesn’t come this will all have been for naught. He has to come if the spell is going to work. The spell Strange made. 

“Y/N.” I twirl around. Cold wind bludgeons my face but I maintain my composure as I stare into Dormammu’s neon purple eyes. “Surely you could’ve thought of a more creative insult than,  _ Dorma-bitch. _ ”

I shrug. “Had you waited to show up a couple more minutes I might’ve come up with something.” He offers me what seems like a smile, though it’s hard to see with his face rippling. “I’m here to make a bargain.”

“Aren’t you all?” he drones tiredly and leans back against a building. It groans under the weight of his body but he doesn’t move.

“I think you’re going to like this one though.” I sway to the side and kick away a brick. “You’re going to give me back all my magic, time stone remnants included, and I’m going to kill you.”

“And why would I like that?”

Silently, I begin making designs with my fingers. My sling ring purrs and even my magic tries to persuade me to stop. It’s too late now. He’s here and I have to save my family.

“I hear hell is a lovely temperature year round.”

His growl makes the ground underneath my feet shake. I have to brace myself on the stairway to keep from falling over. Looking up I see his fist prepared to come down on me, ensuring my death. Instead of recoiling I smirk. So far, everything is going as planned. 

Now is the hardest part. 

I close my eyes and feel the magic deep in the Earth, I feel my magic in Dormammu and I feel the magic that resides in dozens of dimensions in the multiverse. Without a second thought, I pull it into me. 

It takes one moment to know that this isn’t going to feel good. No sorcerer has ever drawn in this much energy and probably for good reason. Usually one just pulls it in bit by bit. It allows the multiverse to continuously replace it. Now I’m shoving it all down my throat. It may be the worst idea I’ve ever had.

I slam my hands together. Every building around me, whether it’s made of stone, glass or metal shatters. Light explodes out of every pore. The pain sears every cell in my body, but I keep pushing, keep shoving more magic in so I can keep the spell going. Strange required nearly an entire dimension’s energy to do the spell on the Sanctum alone. 

And I’m going to do it on all of Earth. 

Dormammu is screaming something at me but there is no time to listen. At this moment there is only the spell.

My sling ring is burning my fingers. My magic is entering and exiting my body from every direction. It feels like I’m being ripped open —but the spell. 

I can feel my fingers working to complete the spell. There’s an orb of light surrounding me, but I can’t tell if it’s because of the suit or me. Probably both. In fact, the metal scales feel like they’re burning away. Everything’s burning.

I slowly bring my fingers together, preparing myself for what is to come. Like Strange’s spell, this will be sending Dormammu and his zealots away but I did make some additions.

I concentrate on the glasses, on the spell wrapping around them so the video remains. I concentrate on the memories of this past week. Of my friends, Peter, Strange, Tony, and everyone remembering what has happened. 

I imagine myself going to the mirror dimension with Dormammu.

_ That’s the plan?  _ I imagine Stephen saying.  _ You’re going to shut yourself in the mirror dimension with the most dangerous being alive. _

I laugh through the pain, the heat of tears on my cheeks semi-apparent to me.

_ Well,  _ I would say back,  _ if I win, I’ll be the most dangerous person alive. _

_ You once got your hand stuck in the sink. _

_ You had me on opioids! _

_ And you started crying because you were afraid it was going to shred your magical fingers.  _

That makes me laugh again, even if the words aren’t real. Even if they mean nothing. I laugh because what else can I do as the tips of my fingers connect and the spell ripples outwards.

I hear the sound of shattering glass, of the time spell following even as I’m placed in an entirely different dimension. What I hear the most is the sound of Dormammu shrieking as his fist comes down right next to me.

I’m thrown to the side, shards of glass and stone and metal chasing me down. I look over my shoulder and see the building I’m approaching. Hastily, I conjure wings to keep me from hitting it. I’ve exerted too much energy though, and it’s a matter of seconds before I drop to the ground with a harsh crack. Pain shoots through my collarbone again. The bone never had the proper chance to heal. 

“You really thought bringing me to the mirror dimension was wise?” Dormammu ridicules. “My power here is infinite. I am the master of this place.”

“Yeah?” I cough into my hand. When I look at my palm there is a pool of blood. “Well, I think the mirror dimension could use a new queen.”

This only enrages him, and I turn to see a tidal wave of buildings heading straight towards me. Raising my arms I pull in more energy. A bright blue shield encircles my bleeding figure. I push it out towards the tidal wave and watch as every building is pulverized. 

When I turn around I see Dormammu staring on in disbelief. I don’t utter a single syllable as I snap my fingers. The earth between us splits. Even the distorted planets around us shatter under my influence. And Dormammu only watches.

Once his attention returns to me I smirk up at him. “What are you?”

I step into the air. Instead of my foot going straight through and hitting the ground again the wind brushes under it, pushing it up. I take another step. And another. The planets Dormammu has taken for himself continue collapsing in on themselves, all because of me. 

Dormammu’s face comes down to meet mine halfway. For the first time, he is not looming in front of me like this to assert his dominance but rather his curiosity.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I am the Bluebird. I am a powerful sorceress. I am one of Earth’s mightiest heroes.” I shrug lazily. “Most of all, I’m a teenage girl who’s sick and tired of you controlling her life.”

He opens his mouth to reply, perhaps to insult me, but the sound of a million planets shooting towards him keeps the words from coming. Meanwhile, I turn my back to him and run. I run faster than I’ve ever run. I skid down the steps made of air and wind. On the last couple, I trip and go flying forward. My body hits the ground. A chunk of metal collides with my head and a piece of an approaching planet strikes my shoulder. Pain ripples through my collar bone and I shriek out. Fatigue is starting to settle into my bones.

I stand though. I stand and run. My legs are pounding against the ground. My lungs are burning. If I could just make myself go faster—

But if I use my magic any more than I already I have I risk even more fatigue. That would mean risking passing out which would mean I wouldn’t get home. I have to get home. I have to get to Peter. I have to run. Run. Run. Run.  _ Run.  _

Behind me, I can hear Dormammu. Hear him scream in agony as the planets smash against him. He must be fighting back, but the spell won’t stop throwing planets at him until he’s dead. That’s why I had to get so close. Why I didn’t have a head start. Because I had to place the marker on his head.

I raise my hands over my head as a sphere smashes against the earth next to me. Rubble is thrown underfoot and my feet threaten to falter. I stay upright though and keep sprinting. I just want to be a little further before I start making a portal and then—

Dormammu’s cold fingers wrap around my waist and pull me backward. I try kicking against his hand, scratching his palm, releasing my needle so it goes straight through his skin and bone. Nothing makes him release me and soon enough I’m back where I started. 

I don’t bother screaming because there’s no one here to hear me. Just Dormammu who would laugh. Laugh as we both got smashed to death. I could stop the spell but then I may never be able to begin it again. Then he could find a way back to Earth and everything I had done would be worthless. Not now. Not after my mom and dad. Not after I killed for my own gain.

Tears are beginning to run down my cheeks. I can’t have lost. Not this way. Home. I have to get home.

And then he’s squeezing. I gasp for air. There’s a crack within his hand, but it’s not coming from him. It’s me. I bite my lip to cage the pain. Then there’s another though. Then two more. I raise my head to the dark sky and pray that my back stays intact. That he only breaks my ribs.

I’m thankful when he loosens his grip enough for me to breath. Before I realize it he’s laying me back in his ice cold palm. Everything is becoming blurry. Even his neon eyes have turned warped. I see something bright pink in the corner of my eye. It has enough shape for me to tell it’s a planet. I might run if I felt like I had the strength. Every breath of air hurts though. It would be so much easier to sleep than to run.

“Little bird,” Dormammu murmurs. His voice is rough, telling me he was severely hurt. I do not look at him. Instead, I keep watching the great neon pink planet hurtling towards his head.

“It looks like you’ve broken your wings.” I’m faintly aware of his other hand coming towards me. It’s only when it presses against my chest that I scream out. “Is it kinder to let them heal,” he wonders and raises his hand, but I see the way one finger sharpens into a thin point, “or to put it out of its misery.”

I see the pointed finger coming for me and I do not move. All I can do is watch as it pushes through what little remains of my suit, through my ashen clothes, through my bruised skin and into me. There is no scream that can match the amount of pain I feel in this moment. The only testament for how excruciating it is are the tears rolling down the side of my face. Black spots appear around my vision and I realize what is happening. 

A cold shiver runs up my spine, the world fades a little, but I keep my gaze locked on the planet. Using what little energy I have left I focus my mind and watch as the planet is honed into a frighteningly sharp point.

Dormammu pulls his finger out of my abdomen. I feel my blood immediately rush out of the wound and hurry to cover it with my shaking hands. 

He smiles down at me, victorious, but I see that the planet is far closer than before. He opens his mouth to mock me more.

The words are cut short by the neon shard slicing through the veil of black smoke. The noise when it splinters through his head is indescribable. If I weren’t bleeding to death I might throw up.

His neon eyes go dark. The rippling in his face stops. Dormammu’s hand drops…

And I drop with it.

Suddenly there is only air against my back. Soft, rippling air. I’m ready to keep falling. To find sleep while I’m doing so, but the mantra comes back.  _ Home. Peter. Strange. Tony. Natasha. Thor. Bruce. Clint. Bucky. _

The list goes on and on. All my reasons to get back home.  _ Aunt May. Ned. MJ. Heather.  _

I still have to talk to Wanda and Vision. I still have to get back at Loki for that dumb prank he pulled on me. I still have to visit the library with Wong but just end up making fun of Strange with him. Michelle owes me coffee and I owe May dinner. I promised to modify Ned’s tech with a spell. Natasha wants to teach me how to dance. Clint wants to teach me sign language.

Bruce has to pay me back for accidentally causing me to astral project. Steve wants to take me to victory dinner for acing my chem test. I still have to make that Asgardian style vase for Thor in ceramics. I still have to repaint Bucky’s arm after messing it up during lessons. I still have to let Tony make modifications on my suit. Strange still has to give me a tour of Kamar-taj so I can see what my magic is rooted from. Heather has to tell me everything that happened to her.

Peter is going to take me to prom.

I had so many reasons to leave but there’s so many more to come back now, and I did not save them, I did not impact their lives just so I could abandon them now. I am not my father. I will go home. I am coming home.

I spin in the air so that I face the ground. Pulling my hand away from my gaping wound, I hold it in front of me and begin making a portal. I’ll be cutting it close but I’m coming home. More planets crash around. The ring of gold opens just before I hit the ground.

Instead, I land in the handcrafted feather bed I slept in at Kamar-Taj. I roll over, the pain too sharp in my stomach to actually enjoy the soft mattress. My feet find the ground and I stand. Everything hurts. I want to sleep, but I’m almost home. All I have to do is find them now.

I wander clumsily through the halls. There’s no one out, telling me that I must’ve arrived either during lessons or the night. While one hand stays on my stomach the other follows the wall. There is a trail of blood left in my wake, but I don’t care.

Finally, I hear the murmur of familiar voices through a nearby doorway.

“Just tell me how we can get her back, Strange.” Tony. Tony’s here. That means Strange is too. I wonder if all the Avengers have come to see where I am. 

“All we can do is wait.” That doesn’t sound like Stephan’s voice. It does but it doesn’t because I’ve never heard him sound like that. Hopeless. I wish I didn’t have to leave him hopeless.

“What if Y/N doesn’t make it that long?” Then I lose my breath.

Because that’s Peter’s voice. My Peter’s voice. I hadn’t heard him in so long. For more than one instance I thought I never would again, but here I am, listening to his voice from my spot next to the doorway. 

“The kids right, Strange,” Tony agrees. “You told us yourself that this Dormammu guy is like a god. Y/N—”

“Y/N is strong,” Stephan interrupts. He’s angry. “Besides,” I hear his footsteps as he walks across the room anxiously, “she hasn’t left me with any other choice besides waiting.”

“What does—”

“She siphoned all of our dimensions magic into her,” he announces. “This dimension, the one of ours, before our, the one that lays a hundred dimensions away.” I hear something thud as though Stephan had lost his temper. “She took it all and I can’t get a hold of anything that’s left. Even my sling ring can’t get me to her.”

“Why?” Peter’s voice rings out helplessly. I want to step in now but I can only lean against the doorframe and wait for enough energy to return so that I might speak.

“I think the video she left us explained that pretty well, kid.” So they did see the video. How long was I gone then if they were able to find it in it’s hiding spot. Maybe they just worked quick. Maybe I’ve been gone for months and they just happened upon it. I don’t know which answer I prefer.

“No—no.” I can practically hear Peter’s frustration boiling over. “Why can’t we do anything? Why can’t we save her, you guys? You promised Y/N you would keep her safe and you failed!” I flinch. “Why did we fail?”

They’re all silent, not knowing the answer. I hear my own heartbeat hammering in my ears. Looking down at my stomach I see all the blood I’ve lost.  _ Too much. _

“Because Y/N had to save herself one more time,” Strange answers.

As I enter the small room there are so many different things I want to tell them. I want to say that I defeated Dormammu. That he’s dead and that I got to meet my mom but I had to kill her to get out of my dad. That I think me killing her might’ve been her way to escape my dad too. That I don’t think she got to hear me when I said I love you.

I want to tell them I killed my dad too. That he told me things that still scare me and won’t stop scaring me. That I found my best friend he killed when I was little and that she’s been with me all this time.

I want to say that I was scared I’d never see them again… Hear them again and that even just listening to their muffled voices through the walls of Kamar-taj brings me unimaginable peace. That I was a hero and I saved the Earth with my own two hands. But most importantly, I want to tell them that I missed them. That I came back because I want to live every last second of my life with them… even if I don’t have much time left. 

While I’m trying to figure out what to say though, I realize that the three of them have already turned towards my bloody and beaten figure. I glance at each of them quickly to read their expressions.  A soft giggle threatens to escape my throat when I see the way Tony's mouth has dropped open in silent shock. The way his eyes gleam a bit just from seeing me intact. That humor that was once in me though is replaced with dread when I see Stephens eyes scanning my entire body, expression hollowing when he sees the way my shirt has been stained a dark shade of death by the blood still slipping through my fingers. Finally, I look to Peter whose golden brown eyes are locked intently on me to make sure I don't disappear again. My gaze softens immediately at the sight of him and a warm tremor moves up and through my spine. I offer them all a single soft grin. 

“I'm home,” I manage to force out of my mouth. Though it's only two words I feel that it conveys everything I need them to know in this moment. And although I wish I could be strong enough for Peter to rush worriedly to my side, to feel his lips on mine and the kind words that drop onto my bludgeoned body another tremor curls up and through every nerve in my body, pulling me towards something I'm terrified of but ready to accept. Before the cloak can reach me or Peters webbing or even the sound of Tony shouting my name I fall backward and allow my eyes to roll into the back of my head

 


	35. Part 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bringin' back lots of old lines and dialogue during this chapter ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))

_ She suffered from severe laceration all over her body, the majority on her back, eight broken ribs, a broken collarbone, a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, a puncture wound just below her right hip, a deep stab wound that caused internal bleeding, a collapsed lung, and a bruising along her spine. _

The woman pauses. I don’t know who she is, but Stephen keeps calling her Christine. She sounds like a doctor from the way she speaks. If I astral projected I could see if I was right. I don’t want to use magic right now. All I want to do is sleep.

_ Our scans haven’t shown any serious or long-lasting damage to her brain but we won’t know for sure until she wakes up.  _ She taps her foot on the floor, considering what to say next.  _ Stephen, can I speak to you alone?  _ I hadn’t known there was anyone else here with us. The other person doesn’t speak, doesn’t grunt or disagree. Whoever it is just stands and leaves.

Once they’re gone and the door shuts the woman begins speaking again.

_ I understand that magic and spell-casting is your line of work Stephen _ _ — _

_ The mystical arts. _

I scoff to myself.

_ —but you’re bringing kids into it now? She’s sixteen! _

_ I’m not the one who brought her into it in the first place, Christine!  _ Stephen yells back. I pray no one hears them.  _ It was her piece of shit father who forced her to do this when she was a toddler. I only wanted to protect her and I… _

His voice trails off, but I know what he was going to say next.  _ I failed.  _ That was going to be the next word.  _ Failed.  _ After that summary of my injuries, I might be tempted to believe it. 

_ I’m sorry Stephen. I didn’t— _

_ It’s okay,  _ he reassures her _. I just—I wanted to keep her safe even when I didn’t actually care. When I found her she was a nuisance but she was my responsibility. Now she’s still my responsibility and she’s definitely still a nuisance,  _ I chuckle in response _ , but she’s special. Now when I actually do care and she’s hurt I—I feel like…  _

I feel the faintest sensation of a rough, scarred hand covering my own. The energy around it is pained… sad. I frown and try to grab it back. No matter how much I will it though my fingers refuse to move.

_ Like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. _

_ She’ll be okay Stephen, _ Christine reassures him.  _ She’s going to wake up. _

There’s silence. I will my mouth to move while there is a chance for me to be heard, but my lips stay locked together, unable to open.

_ She won’t forgive me though,  _ he tells her.  _ I tried to save her. I sacrificed myself so she could get out, and yet she still ended up hurt. Her body will heal, but what about her mind? Y/N’s father had already hurt her so much. What will this do to her? _

_ If she’s anything like you,  _ she touches my other hand,  _ then the pain will allow her the opportunity to grow. _

Stephen doesn’t reply to Christine’s encouragement. Instead, his other hand wraps around mine. Christine’s fingers pull away from me and I listen as she crosses the hospital room, stopping at the doorway.

_ Don’t stay too long, okay Stephen. _

He says nothing. The door shuts with a soft thud, leaving the two of us alone.

I think I hear him sob.

* * *

 

Stephen had left a long time ago. At least it felt like it did. He left and the other person who was here with me never came back. By the lack of noise, I assume it must be night time. Just like when I came back home.

Being in this state, a coma they said, it feels like I’m sitting outside my own mind, blind and only able to hear. I know I’m still apart of my body, but it just doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’m floating. Like I’m rising higher and higher without any fear of the consequences. I can’t seem to remember what it’s like to be one with myself.

At least I can sleep.

* * *

I’m falling.

The sun hangs above me, calling for me to come back. I don’t reach out though. My arms stay locked to my side and I keep falling.

I wonder when I’m going to hit the ground. Each sound makes me flinch, but the impact never comes. Soon enough I’m more annoyed by the dream than frightened. I’m falling. The sun is shouting. I never meet the earth below. 

I feel my hair around my face, resisting gravity and pulling upward. My dress does the same. It’s the same dress I wore during the press conference.

_ I had done things, said things, that I wasn’t proud of. Even. Now I’m working to accept that some of what I did wasn’t my fault.  _

My father’s face flashes in front of my face.

_ Whatever you do, it will be influenced by me, by the experiences you’ve had because of me.  _

“Stop it,” I beg softly.

_ You’ll never escape my hold. I’ll always be a nagging voice in your head, one that you will listen to.  _

“Please…”

_ I’ll always be a part of you, Y/N.  _

“Stop it!” I reassert. He’s still there.

_ You can’t kill me in any way that matters. _

“STOP!”

_ I find myself staring in the mirror sometimes and listing off all of the things I hate about myself until I’m saying things that aren’t even real or just flat out don’t fucking matter at the end of the day. _

I’m falling.

My arms feel a little looser, but I still can’t reach out for the sun. The ground does not come to claim me.

_ I’ve never done this. Goodbyes I mean. I never had the chance to. My mother died before hello, my father disappeared without leaving so much as a note, and people have left my life before I could even find a way to care enough to say goodbye. _

I want to stop falling.

_ It’s you guys or me. My magic or the end I fear more than anything else. Your end. The end of everyone I love. _

I just want to sleep.

_ This is the story of how I come to the end of myself. _

Let me touch the sun.

_ Thank you for loving me in all the ways I never thought a person could and then loving me more. I may have found my end, but thank you for making it a good one. _

The sun.

_ This was the story of how I came to the end of myself. I am the Icarus… And I have loved the sun far too deeply not to burn for it. _

I only want to touch the sun.

But I’m falling.

_ It enhances her in ways she doesn’t even understand yet. _

Green flashes in front of my eyes, tinting the gold sun.

_ I’m saying Y/N would be our only hope. _

I can move my hands.

_ It has always been a part of her and we have absolutely no right to remove it from her without her wanting it too. _

Feeling returns to my forearms.

_ Your magic which enhanced the time stone. _

I roll my shoulders.

_ Your magic was a gift from destiny itself and by fusing the time stone with it you were able to gain full access to its powers. _

I reach towards the sun.

_ Your magic is your soul, and as long as you’re alive your soul will want to come home. _

And I finally meet the ground.

* * *

I don’t want to sleep anymore.

* * *

There’s the sudden rustling of plastic as someone enters my room. The monitor next to me beeps consistently.

Like always, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of my own body. No one except for Christine has been coming in lately. She talks to me like I’m going to miraculously open my mouth and reply. She tells me the time, luckily, as well as the weather, the news. She even tells me who is coming in to see me. That’s how I know it’s Tony who walks through the door.

I listen as he walks to my bedside and places something down. He paces the perimeter of my room for a moment before finally settling in the creeky chair designated for me. Maybe they think it will wake me up sooner.

_ I brought you flowers, _ he tells me. _ A sort of weird tradition to me since they die so quickly. Little ironic for a hospital. Not that I’m saying you’re going to die. You’re too stubborn for that.  _ He speaks like he’s distracted, but I guess he usually is. His fingers tap against a machine by my head.

_ You know, I’m sort of hoping you can’t hear any of this,  _ Tony says.  _ Rhodey says he didn’t hear my whole coma speech while he was out and neither did Happy. Knowing you, you probably will remember this for some reason. _

There’s a lull as though he’s finally taking a moment to take in my appearance. The chair creaks.

_ Why?  _

I roll my eyes. “I’m pretty sure you guys already had this discussion.”

_ I get why you saved us and the Earth because of the whole hero thing. That I can understand. But why did you trust us, Y/N? _

Oh.

_ You had no reason to,  _ he continues.  _ You’re father… he practically tortured you. You were abused mentally, verbally and physically. You were abandoned and used over and over again. He came back only to taunt you. There was no reason for you to trust any of us. After what happened to you people might say it was dumb of you to trust us. Yet you did. _

I smile. “Yet I did,” I reply.

_ We didn’t do much to deserve it. _

“Neither did I.”

_ We kidnapped you from school, tossed you in Bruce’s lab and let Strange deal with you. _

I laugh.

_ What I’m trying to say is sorry. _

“Don’t.”

_ I’m sorry for dragging you into this. _

“Stop it, Tony.”

_ Maybe if we just let you live your life you wouldn’t be here in need of a coma monologue. _

“You’re right.” I wish he could hear me. “I might’ve ended up somewhere worse.”

_ I’m also saying thank you, Y/N,  _ Tony says.  _ I know you were never one for trust. Trusting adults at least. Why should you have been though? What with your father. But I want you to know that I have never felt so much genuine pleasure as I did when I realized you trusted me. You had no reason to. I pulled you from the life you knew, I forced that stupid fucking bracelet on you, I forced you into being an Avenger, but you trusted me. So wake up. Someday just wake up so I can yell at you for drinking too much coffee and tease you for kissing Peter. Just wake up, and I promise I will show you I am worth trusting. _

The chair creaks again, telling me he got up.  _ I have a press conference today. Since you messed with time we went back to a couple of days after your interview and everyone is making me handle the news.  _ I listen as he walks back towards the door, stops, walks back towards me and ruffles my hair.

“Really?” I chide angrily.

_ Have fun in your coma, Y/N.  _ He opens the door to leave again.  _ I’ll see you later. _

* * *

I’m falling.

The part where I hit the ground is coming up.

I reach for the sky, but this time I land on something cold. It’s freezing in fact. Tilting my head to the side, I look to see where I am. Below me is a rippling black mass. I jolt and try to push myself, but the tar of Dormammu’s hand is holding me down. All I can do is stare up and into his neon purple eyes.

But they’re not purple.

They’re the color of my father’s. 

His gaze is sharp and unyielding. He glares down at me like I’m a worthless ant that happened below his foot. 

_ When will you realize this single lesson Y/N? You are not the hero of this story. You are the Icarus. You yearned for the light and warmth the sun provided you with after never having seen it. Y/N, you were destined to fall at some point. We all are. This hope you harbor within yourself was just the catalyst to your own destruction. _

I sob weakly as the darkness begins to pull me in. “Just let me touch the sun.”

_You’re worthless,_ he tells me.

“The sun.”

_You were born worthless,_ the tar wraps over my mouth and I’m suddenly tugged under, _and you will die worthless._

 

_ Hey Blue. _ His voice pulls me out of the darkness.

Peter. 

_ Sorry for not staying long yesterday,  _ he says. So he was the other person in my room.  _ After your doctor asked me to leave I went to go check on everyone. Then I wanted to swing around the city. _

“You were distracting yourself,” I reply, even though he can’t hear me. Even though I can’t open my mouth.

_ I may have been trying to distract myself. _

I laugh.

_ You know when you left me at Kamar-taj,  _ guilt shoots through me,  _ I thought you were gonna come back a lot quicker. I thought I was gonna open my eyes and boom, you’d be standing in front of me looking victorious. Like you’d just conquered the world. Like you had just saved the world. _

The chair creaks. I hear something sounding like a backpack full of books hit the floor.

_ Cause that's what you did. You saved us all. You killed Dormammu. You turned back time,  _ he exclaims.  _ You were the hero… _

_ But you don't look like you've won, he whispers. You _ _ —you— _

Something sounding like choking comes from where Peter is sitting.

_ You just look hurt, Y/N.  _ His hand finds mine. I just want to hold it back. I just want to hold his hand.  _ You're so pale and there are so many cuts. How did you get so many cuts?  _

“It's okay Peter.”

_ I feel so helpless, Y/N,  _ he confesses. _ There's nothing I can do to help you and I'm supposed to be Spider-Man. I'm supposed to save people, so why couldn't I save you? _

“I had to save myself, Peter.” He squeezes my hand hard. I hold back my wince “I had to be my own hero in this story.”

_ I don’t want to tell you to wake up,  _ he says.  _ You deserve to sleep, Y/N. After all you’ve been through. You deserve the chance to really rest for once. You have suffered more than I can ever comprehend. All you’ve been through, all you’ve done is a testament to how strong you had to be. For once you don’t have to be strong anymore. You can sleep. _

_ If you are somehow awake in there though,  _ he continues,  _ then I want to say this at least. The day you left, you told me you loved me. I never said it back.  _ I feel a familiar pair of lips on my own. They’re so soft. Softer than the day I left. I want to kiss him back but I stay locked to the bed, unmoving, unresponsive. He stays close even when we break apart so I can feel his breath on my skin. 

_ I love you, Y/N L/N,  _ he proclaims.  _ You’re my hero and I love you for that and so much more. _

Beeping suddenly fills the room, though it’s not from the monitor. Peter’s presence over me disappears and I’m left cold on the hospital bed.

_ I have to go now,  _ he informs me,  _ but I want you to know you can stay asleep for as long as you need to Y/N. You deserve to sleep. You deserve the damn universe, but if all you want is to sleep then you sleep. Just remember that whenever you wake up I’ll be around. You could sleep a thousand years and I would find a way to be with you when you wake up. Maybe try to aim for the tomorrow though. _

Then Peter’s gone

And I’m falling again. __

* * *

Every time I have this dream or see these visions there’s always something different. Every time something changes.

This time I’m not falling.

I’m running.

I’m running on air. Running straight down towards the ground.  _ Oblivion.  _ I can’t help but wonder what happens when I meet the ground. I hear the feral sound of Dormammu above me, his hand chasing me down. The planets are falling in on Earth, destroying everything.

I keep running.

People have been coming in the past couple of days. My friends, the Avengers. At least I think they have been. They weren’t loud enough and their presence didn’t make the dream end. Now I can’t stop running. The dream won’t end because I can’t reach the ground and I certainly won’t touch the sun. Dormammu might catch me first.

I remember the feeling of my ribs breaking. The memory makes me collapse. All the pain at that moment is surreal and the dream slows to match my new pace: a weak crawl.

_ Hey Y/N.  _ Stephen.

“Wake me up,” I beg to him. He can’t hear me though. No one can. I am silent. 

_ I always pitied people who would try talking to those they loved while they were in a coma,  _ he tells me. The chair creaks. I keep crawling from death.  _ It seemed so desperate to me. Last resort. Congratulations Y/N. You’ve managed to bring me to the last resort. I don’t know where to start though…  _

I feel my collarbone snap. The scream that tears itself out of my throat brings with it blood. Too much blood.

_ I used to have a sister you know? God, she was nearly as stubborn as you. Nearly. She’s the reason I became a doctor. She did pass away though. _

“Stephen.” I try to force my mouth to move. I try to force my fingers to flex or my eyes to flutter. My body remains paralyzed on the bed though.

I feel my dad’s kick to my stomach.

_ My sister got sick, and she depended on me to save her, but I couldn’t. You’re a lot like her. That same glow in your eyes, the same humor, the compassion, but there is the smallest difference in your persistence. _

My fingers are beginning to bleed from clawing at the air. Every breath is like being stabbed. I feel the force of an explosion throw me onto the side, the fire singing my skin. I keep crawling. Dormammu lets out another monstrous scream.

_ My sister wouldn’t give up on me,  _ Stephen continues. _ You, Y/N? You never ever give up on yourself. You’re so strong.  _

“I don’t want to be strong anymore,” I whimper.

_ There hasn’t been a day where the universe hasn’t wanted to run you six feet under. Every day there is a new struggle. Every day the same villains come back to haunt you. But you’re so damn stubborn. Even when you seem to be gone, even when you believe you’ve given up on yourself, you’re still fighting. You refuse to lay down and beg for mercy. You want to have faith. You want to be the hero. You want to live.  _

My hands stop clawing at the air. I stop feeling pain. Dormammu’s hand stops chasing me. The dream stops.

“I want to live.”

_ That’s what’s so special about you. I’ve never met someone who wants to live as much as you. Even when you’re walking towards death itself,  _ I start moving towards the ground again, _ you’re clinging to life. You’ve always had your hands around it. In your sixteen years of life, you’ve become the greatest treasure death can hope to possess.  _ The pain in my chest fades away.  _ You lay your life on the line, but you always hope for the great escape. _

I can breathe again

_ Don’t stop being stubborn now.  _

I stand.

_ Don’t let death creep up on you. If you find that you can’t be stubborn anymore, let me be stubborn for you. Let me remind you that you are the most heroic, persistent, compassionate, and complex person I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.  _

I turn towards Dormammu.

_ Let me promise you that you won’t be waking up for nothing. _

I wait and listen.

_ Stark and I, we have an idea,  _ Stephen tells me. _ I want to take you under my wing Y/N. I want you to be a real prodigy. My prodigy. I can take you to Kamar-t _ _ aj and teach you everything I can. _

I spread my arms out. Deep inside I can feel my magic humming in preparation.

_ With me becoming the Sorcerer Supreme, Wong suggested something to me. It’s only a suggestion. If you’d accept, we- I would like you to be Guardian. It’s an old practice. The role hasn’t been used for hundreds of years, but I think you would be worth bringing it back for. _

I smile up at Dormammu.

_ Then one day, you would take my place. _

My feet disconnect from the air, and I fall backward.

I can hear the heart rate monitor. I can hear the shrill beep that announces I’m flatlining. I can hear Stephen shout my name, I can hear the doctors rush in but most of all I hear the wind. It bursts past my face, shooting through my hair and curling around my finger tips.

**“Running just seems to be all I’m good at.”**

The wind is magic. It’s my magic. It’s mine to bend and shape and enhance. The wind is mine to use. All I need is wings.

**“Hey, Y/N, you are an incredible person and I know that running away can’t be all-”**

**“But I am good at it. That’s what you’re saying, right Vera? That hey, you can do magic and shit pretty well but yeah, you are pretty good at running.”**

The ground is coming closer. Stephen is still screaming at me to get up. I will. I will get up. 

As he said, I want to live.

**“I had the choice to run away right then and there. You knew I had my sling ring on me but I stayed.”**

**“Why?”**

**“Because I am so fucking sick of running.”**

Finally, I turn my head to the sky. I look past Dormammu, past the falling planets and I see the sun. I raise my hand towards it.

**I had a moment to learn how to crawl...**

A familiar weight collects on my back. One that I’ve missed dearly. 

**...A second to walk...**

My magic hums excitedly in my fingers. It’s ready. I’m ready.

**...A minute to begin running...**

It’s time for me to stop running away from the sun. This entire time I’ve been falling away from it. All this time I’ve only been reaching for it as I let myself come closer and closer to the ground. Now I know what I need to do.

I unfurl my blue wings. The wind bends around them, pushing past the feathers and magic within them. 

**...All without falling…**

Everything is screaming around me. Dormammu, the planets, the heart monitor, Stephen, my magic, the wind. Everything is screaming except for me. I am the center of the hurricane.

**...Before I forced myself to jump…**

I want to live.

**...And fly away.**

My wings snap against the wind, pulling away from the ground and towards the sky. Everything in between doesn’t matter. It is only the ground, the sun, and me. Everything else disintegrates. Dormammu, the planets, the scream. It’s just me flying towards the sun, basking in the warmth it is offering. 

I pound my wings harder and harder, the exhilaration of finally feeling it on my fingers motivating me to go higher faster. It is so close. Close enough for me to feel it in my heart, filling my veins. The sun is home. It is what I fell for and it is what I will rise for.

This is the story of how I only came to the beginning of myself.

I am the Icarus…

And I have loved the sun far too deeply not to fly for it.

* * *

“Y/N!” That is the very first thing I hear as I’m waking up. Then a beep. Just one for a moment. Then another and another until the noise has turned consistent.

My fingers clench around the covers, squeezing the blankets.

_ I can move. _

I sigh, more thankful than I’ve ever been and start opening my eyes.

At first, it is only light. Bright white light that makes me wince and turn my head away. There’s something on my face, around my nose and mouth. I don’t pay much attention to it for now. I’m too focused on feeling. Something in my chest aches horribly. Like someone lit it on fire for the past minute just to see what would happen. The rest of my body hurts, but not in that way. Everything else feels much number. The pain in my stomach, my collar bone, my head. It all just pulses faintly. A small reminder of all that’s happened.

Then there’s a hand on my own, scarred and ruined and familiar. I try to smile despite the stinging in my face where I must’ve gotten cut by debris. It hurts but I think I succeed in making the corners of my lips turn upwards.

“Y/N?” Stephen asks this time as though he needs to check that I am, in fact, alive. I turn my hand over and squeeze his fingers.

Opening my eyes again I look up. The light is still there but it isn’t as bright as before. I can finally see that the thing on my face is a resuscitation mask and the burning sensation was from the defibrillator on the metal table.

I look at Stephen last. He’s staring at me, just staring. It looks like he’s watching a ghost.

Fearfully, I look down at my hands to make sure I’m actually connected to my body and not floating around in my astral form.

When I’m positive that I’m really here I reach up with my free hand to pull off the mask. Stephen sees what I intend to do before I do it. He pulls it off for me instead and places it on the metal table. 

I blink my eyes hard to try and get rid of the blurriness that almost feels stiff. Nothing feels right. Everything is just a little warped. Not much but enough for me to notice. My eyes feel useless.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Stephen reassures, capturing my attention again. “It’s going to take a bit before you get your bearings. Just stay calm.”

I nod, my head feeling like a ton of bricks. I try to come up with something to say. Something that might relieve the tension. There are still doctors standing around, making sure I don’t die again. 

“Well,” I croak, my voice rough from not being used for so long, “that was horrible.”


	36. Part 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! I hope you all enjoy. I'll be making an announcement at the end of the chapter so just keep an eye out for that. :)

I fidget with the silver key in my hands as Happy’s car pulls up to the curb. The metal is cold between my fingers. It feels freezing compared to the warmth of summer. Maybe that’s just me though. Maybe I would feel different if I wasn’t here.

It’s been eight months since I’ve been to my apartment. Eight months since Peter and I fought side by side in the mirror dimension. Eight months since I saved that kid. Eight months since the Avengers took me in. I’m going to be seventeen soon. Peter and I passed our six month anniversary. I beat Dormammu, I agreed to become Stephen’s guardian, I killed, I loved and I fought.

Yet I’m still scared to go into my old home.

“We don’t have to do this today,” Peter tells me, placing a hand on mine to stop my fidgeting. “We can go meet up with everyone else before the service starts instead.” I shake my head and stare out the window. The paint used to cover our windows is beginning to chip off.

“It’s time.” That’s the truth. I was stuck in the hospital for a week. Then everyone kept me locked in the compound for months to make sure I actually healed properly. After that Thaddeus Ross and Everett came to check on me. Thaddeus was mostly there to make sure I was still on the team. Tony had me start talking to a psychologist. I spent four months healing. They said I could do whatever I needed to after that. I told them I needed to let my parents go.

“Anyways,” I smile, “we might be able to finally find their names so Tony can have them put on the headstones.” Peter offers a smile back and squeezes my hand.

I feel as though I’m floating as I step out of the car. The building is familiar yet changed at the same time. There must be new residents that moved in during my time away based on the different cars parked out front. Some of the windows have new curtains. I can hear a dog barking a couple of stories up.

Peter and I don’t speak as we start heading up. The stairs are steep and I feel the need to pick up the hem of my black dress to keep it from hitting the dirty floor. Throughout our entire ascension, Peter keeps a firm hand on my back. It’s reassuring to know I’m not alone through this. Though even without Peter I can see Heather shooting past each window to keep an eye on us. I’ll have to figure out a way to open the one in my apartment so she can come in.

Finally, we reach my floor. I carefully press my key into the nob, doing my best to ignore the way it is shaking. There’s no green light, no shouting, no evil presence. There are no lessons left to be learned here. It’s just an apartment. I’ll find their names and then we’ll —

The door to my right is thrown open. Both Peter and I jump a bit. My magic collects in the tips of the fingers, but as soon as Taryn with her favorite leopard print purse tight pink blouse steps out of the apartment it dissipates. She looks me up and down, taking in my appearance. I wonder if she recognizes me after all the time I was gone. She has to watch the news at least.

“Hey Taryn,” I mutter. “New haircut?”

She doesn’t respond. Her eyes just keep tracing my face, trying to recall where she had to have seen me before.

“Mhmm,” she grumbles back. Taryn reaches back and shuts her door. Her eyes don’t find me again as she steps past Peter and I and descends the stairs.

“Your neighbor?” Peter wonders. I nod in response.

“When I lived here he thought I was a crack addict,” I admit. “She probably thinks I went to rehab.” Peter scoffs. I shrug and turn back towards the door, twisting the key before I can become hesitant again.

There’s so much dust.

Of all the things I could notice, from the books to the table to the fridge, I notice the dust covering every inch of my apartment. It is on the floors and the counters and if I’m not mistaken a thin layer even cover the wall. This is what this place has been reduced to in my absence: dust. 

Peter keeps his hand on my back as I step in and start to see more than the dust. I see my father bolting the table to the floor after I moved it during my lessons, I see the couch where I used to sleep alone almost every night, I see the blood stains on the wood where he hit me for the first time. All of this is the testament to the childhood I never had. I learned ancient languages before English and I learned magic before I knew how to walk. 

For some reason, none of it makes me sad though. Just reminiscent. Because there were horrible memories, but I remember making constellations in the air while I tried to fall asleep on the couch and I remember waking up covered in stardust. I remember reading magical stories about a powerful sorceress princess who made her own spells. There are drawings on the underside of the kitchen table and painted shards of glass in the coffee table drawer.

I learned magic here. I grew up here. 

“Where would any records on your parents be?” Peter asks. He’s taking in his surroundings as well and by the looks of it, he doesn’t like any of what he sees.

“My dad's bedroom,” I whisper. 

It’s the place that terrifies me the most. It’s where I made the new sanctum. The sanctum destroyed my world, both literally and physically. 

I grab Peter’s hand and walk towards the door. It will only open if it feels my magic. Reaching forward I wrap my hand around the lock. Magic warms my palm and in no longer than a second I hear the click. The metal slips from the knob and clangs against the floor. I slowly open the door.

I expected myself to cry. To feel overwhelmed by this horrible place. I don’t though because the thing is, this place isn’t special. It is a room with a bed. There’s a file cabinet in one corner a chest in the other and a closet full of clothes. This room of my dad’s, this life of his, I was never really apart of it. It was only when I left that they tried pulling me in but even then I stayed out of it.

The only reason this place means anything to me at all is because of my magic and the files I hope it holds.

“You start in the chest, I’ll look through the file cabinet.” Peter nods and immediately goes to open the wooden box. Meanwhile, I yank open the first drawer. There are already hundreds of files for me to look through. As I read I find that most of it are old newspapers. Sometimes there’s a description of a special item or person. He kept records of the Dark Scepter, the Cloak of Levitation, anything of importance to the magical realm. It all remains the same as I move downwards. Records and boring history and descriptions of people.

I find something special in the section marked with  **V** though.  _ Valkyrie.  _ I yank the manilla folder out and immediately begin searching. Now I finally know exactly what she looks like. We share the same features. Our eyes are the same, our face, our hair. Luckily, my mom is at the very beginning.

Her name was Kára.  _ The wild one. The stormy one.  _ She could bend wind. There’s a small picture of her in the right corner. She still has in her braids. She’s holding her sword limply in her right hand while staring up at the night sky. Probably to see which realm she ended up in. I try to flip through and find more about her, but everything is just basic information. Approximate age, lineage, abilities. It’s nothing that tells me more about her.

“Y/N…” Peter begins. I turn my head towards him and watch as he pulls a golden necklace out of the bottom of the chest. At the end of the chain are three small hoops of jade, each of them connected to make a triangle. One is yellow, the other is green, and the one at the bottom is a near translucent blue. I walk towards it, taking time to watch the way the light catches on it. I don’t feel any enchantments on it. It’s just a necklace.

“Can I see it real quick?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He places it in my palm and goes back to searching. I hold it close to my face, seeing if any hidden engravings inside. When I find nothing I drop it in my hand again.

“There’s these too,” he tells me. I look down to find that Peter’s found three rings that match the hoops. 

“Weird,” I mumble and pick them up as well. My eye catches on the blue. It’s beautiful. It looks like the sky. There are pieces of white floating inside of it, adding to its overall appearance.

“And pictures.” I nearly drop all of the jewelry I’m holding.

“What?”

“There’s pictures, Y/N.” Peter stands and holds them up to me. “They’re of your parents.” I can only stare at them, not quite registering what I’m seeing. In all the time I spent with my father, I never knew him as the type to keep pictures out of sentiment. That is what this is though. Sentiment. Because in these photos my mom and dad are smiling at one another. She’s in a wedding dress. 

They had a wedding.

I carefully grab the photo from the stack Peter’s holding, treating it like it’s the most fragile thing in the world. It feels like if I handle it wrong the joy might disappear from the image. The most intriguing thing is the jade rings on their fingers, matching the ones I’m holding.

I look back at the stack and gasp.

I’m in this one.

I’m only a baby but I’m in it. My dad is holding me against his chest and I’m asleep.

In the next photo, my mom is playing with me. She’s holding an old stuffed animal, one I don’t remember in any way. I’m smiling at her, watching the bird fly, watching the way she makes it move. Senselessly, I flip it over and read the faded sharpie on the back. 

**_Kára and Y/N. 2002._ **

I pick up the last one where my father is holding me and read it.

**_Veryn and Y/N. 3 months old._ **

_ Vera. _

I give the pictures back to Peter and start digging through the chest myself. Papers are thrown out of my way. Peter doesn’t move, instead choosing to look at the rest of the images.

“The rings were theirs,” he claims.

“The blue was mine,” I infer. “For when I got older. They had it made for me.”

“And the necklace?”

I shrug. “I think—” I gulp down my sadness. I shouldn’t be getting upset now. Not when I finally know their names. Not when there’s finally something to put on their headstones. “I think it was always just meant to be a necklace. Maybe it was for me too. So I could wear it and remember we were connected.”

“Y/N, I’m—”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry Peter,” I hiss. “It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change the fact that my dad abused and neglected me. It doesn’t change the fact that my mom died before I had the chance to remember her. It doesn’t—” I choke on air. “It doesn’t change the fact I killed them.”

“Hey, hey. Blue.” Peter’s arms are enveloping me suddenly, coaxing away the pain. I shouldn’t feel this way. I never knew them. Not really.

But maybe that’s the part that hurts. I never got to know them as they were. Happy. Messy and powerful and mysterious but happy. 

“I’m okay,” I tell him because I have no other choice. I am okay because my parents as they were when I was alive were nothing to mourn over. They left no trace, died so suddenly, and were evil in many ways. One abandoned her people and the other abandoned his daughter. They were not good, but perhaps I can let them die and the parents with the jade rings live.

I hold the blue ring up to the single ray of sunshine that breaks through the painted window. Without hesitation, I slide it onto my finger. The other rings go into my dress pockets and drape the necklace over my neck where it can lay next to my choker.

Again, I lean into the chest, not saying anything to Peter as I look. At last, I see a glimpse of what I’m looking for. It is snug in the bottom where it used to lie under. I know it by the hue of the dark green pen I used. The last thing I needed from this place.

I lift the spell out of the chest. It was meant to bring back my parents, but it made a new sanctum instead. My dad must’ve of come back at some point and put it here. The safe place for all his relics. I hold it over my hand. Abruptly, it catches fire. Blue sparks burst upwards but they don’t disappear. Instead, it finds a new home in the jade necklace my parents left for me.

Destroying the sanctum isn’t an option, but at least I can keep it on me from now on.

I look up from the chest and turn towards Peter. He’s still holding the pictures for me, watching over them.

“Ready?” I grab his hand and shake my head in approval. 

“Ready.”

* * *

 

We all stand in front of two tombstones. The earth of them remains. There’s no point in digging since there are no bodies to bury. I don’t think I’d want them buried anyways.

All the Avengers are here. Not because they knew them or cared for them, but because they wanted to be here for me. I didn’t ask them to, but I don’t usually need to. To my right is Peter who is still holding the pictures from a past I’ve never known. I opted to keep the first three. The other’s will go with my parents wherever that might be. To my left is Strange who is here should anything go wrong when I release their magic.

He had told me it might not be a good idea. I had their power flowing through me for the past four months. Letting it go so suddenly might be painful. I told them I need to let them go though. It’s time.

“I didn’t know my parents,” I say out loud. “Not as they really were at least. I only just started to uncover who they were an hour ago and even that was only the surface. If they’re anywhere near as complex as I was it may take years for me to finally know them.

“My father forced me to do magic. He was abusive. He neglected me unless I did well with magic.” I spin the ring on my finger anxiously. “All in all I can genuinely say I hated him. He was horrible in my sixteen years of life. My mother was much better, even if she was an Asgardian fugitive. I think I might’ve loved her in the end, right before I killed her.” I breathe deep, inhaling the scent of dirt and flowers and concrete.

“I don’t miss those people very much,” I confess. “However, I think I would’ve missed who they once were. I would’ve missed the Valkyrie and sorcerer who fell in love. I would’ve missed the mother and father who nurtured their daughter in her first six months of life. Those people died a very long time ago though and I had no chance to grieve them.

“I hope by letting go of their magic—their souls—I can bring back what they once were.” I let go of Peter’s hand and pull out their rings. They feel infinitely heavy as I place them in each of my palms and hold them up. Green and yellow. My mom and dad. The real them, untainted by Dormammu’s cruelty. I feel their magic as it flows up through my nerves, into my hands. It only stings a little as I let them go. Enough for me to notice, but as I watch the way their magic runs past the rings making them dissolve into the same bright light I don’t find it in me to care. They’re free now. Truly free.

* * *

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.” That is all I can say as Clint finishes his question. Peter snorts next to me. He’s stolen my ice cream and holds it out of my reach. After sending my parents away we went to get ice cream of all things. When he managed to take it I have no idea.

“Look all I’m saying is that all the birds on the team should get special wings,” he explains.

“I’m not gonna waste energy during a fight just so you can have wings, Clint.” I snap my fingers as I talk. The cup of ice cream disappears from Peter’s hands and reappears in my own. He gasps in response, prepared to take it back but I stand before he has a chance and flash to the other side of the room.

“C’mon Y/N,” Clint begs. “Imagine how cool we’d look with wings.”

“Is it weird that I second this notion?” Sam wonders. I shoot him a glare from my spot.

“You have wings.”

“Not magic wings,” he argues. “Yours have feathers too.” I roll my eyes and pop a spoon full of ice cream into my mouth.

“Those are for aesthetic.”

“And aesthetic is more important than making your team members happy?” Clint interrogates.

“For me?” I pretend to ponder on it for a moment before shaking my head. “Yes.” Clint frowns for a moment and crosses his arm. Finally, he looks towards where Stephen is reading a book on the couch.

“Tell your magic guardian child to give me wings, Strange.” I narrow my eyes.

“ _ Magic guardian child?”  _ I repeat the phrase. 

“I like that nickname,” Tony says suddenly. I try to glare at him as well but he only smiles happily. “You’re our magic guardian child.”

“No, she’d only be our magic child.” I groan as even Bruce adds to the conversation.

“Can we add nuisance?” Natasha asks.

“You may not,” I hiss back.

“Uh-oh,” Tony gasps. “It looks like our magic nuisance child is getting upset.” Sighing, I plop down on the nearest chair. “Do you need more ice cream magic nuisance child?”

“Leave poor Y/N alone.” I offer Thor a thankful smile that disappears the moment he smirks and opens his mouth again. “Anyways, she’d be magic nuisance Asgardian child.”

“I’m going to beat you guys with my wings.”

“Magic reckless nuisance Asgardian child seems more appropriate,” Steve adds. I grab the pillow behind my head and chuck it at him. Sadly, he catches it mid-air though. “Hey, I’m not the one who forgets to eat lunch every day.”

“Impressive,” Bucky laughs from his spot in the kitchen.

“It was only a couple times,” I defend.

“How do forget to eat lunch, Y/N?” Tony asks, more worried than accusing.

“I get busy.” I shrug, lifting my arms into the air. “I spent the past semester trying to finish Thor’s dumb three-foot-tall vase in ceramics.” Though Thor still hasn’t gotten it since my teacher put it in the state art show. Something he’s still upset about.

“Hey,” Clint calls for our attention. “I was asking Strange—”

“Y/N’s not giving your wings, Clint,” Strange answers without looking away from his book. I smile victoriously at Clint who slumps into his chair.

“Thank you, Stephen,” I say proudly and place another spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. “I’m glad someone’s on my side.”

“Shit,” Peter exclaims suddenly and shoots up from his spot on the couch. 

“Langu—”

“The gift,” he interrupts Steve before he has the chance to get the full word in. I watch as every expression in the room falls. Furrowing my brows, at look at each of them, silently demanding an answer.

“Shit,” Steve whispers under his breath.

“What gift?”

Tony looks pointedly at Peter and tilts his head towards the exit. “Go grab it.” Peter doesn’t need to hear another word before he’s sprinting out of the room. I watch him go before turning my narrowed eyes back on everyone else.

“You guys don’t need to be getting me any more gifts,” I assert. “After all that you’ve done for me—”

“You took down your first super villain, kid,” Tony stops me. “We’re here because you were willing to sacrifice everything to keep us alive.”

“Also,” Strange finally puts down his book and walks over to where Peter has reentered the room, “we never got to give you a gift for your birthday.” 

I don’t say anything as he carries the wood box over. I can already feel the enchantment inside. Whatever it is, it’s strong. Strange must’ve made it. He extends his hand towards me so I can grab. Gulping, I lift it from his hands and place it in my lap. I can hear it humming. No, not humming. Thumping… like a heartbeat.

My own heart stops then because I know what this is.

“I can’t accept this.” I try to hand it back to him. The magic involved in this sort of spell isn’t it evil, but it is binding.

“You can and you should,” he argues but I shake my head, already prepared to find a way to destroy the spell entirely.

“Y/N,” Peter begins, “we all wanted you to have this.”

“Do you guys know everything about the spell?” I ask. The last thing I expected was to see them all nod in confirmation. They do though. They understand what this does.

I swallow hard and lift up the lid. Throughout my life, I had only ever read about blood spells. I’d never thought I would see one. I had no reason to. Not only that, but I also never expected it to be so beautiful.

It’s contained by a little glass orb no bigger than my fist. There are crystals laid in at the bottom, most likely there to keep it from shatter should it ever drop. They’re a rainbow of colors, but the majority are blue. At the top is a cork.

The outside isn’t what matters though. It’s what they put inside that really matters.

A blood spell obviously requires the blood of the participants. By putting it in the put in a portion of their soul, their magic so should I ever need it—

“You all gave me so much. I—” I’m all too aware of the stinging in my eyes, the sudden wetness on my cheeks. I look up at Stephen who smiles back. After what happened—my father and Dormammu making me powerless, having to kill my parents for energy, pulling in the energy of hundreds of dimensions—he must’ve come up with the idea for the blood spell.

“Thank you,” I say finally. “Thank you for everything.”

As soon as night comes and everyone has fallen asleep, I hide the box where no one will ever find it. Where I can never forget it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be uploading the story to wattpad soon so if you have an account please follow me @kenny.d.how vote for the story when I get it up :)) luv u guys <3


	37. Part 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

I’m leaning against Peter’s back, watching the sunrise over the New York skyline. Only a few things have changed in my favorite cafe. The faerie, which used to be plain gold, have been switched to rainbow instead. The barista working at the back has changed as well. It’s no longer the girl in the rainbow shirt who talks to her boyfriend during work but rather a girl who sits on the stool while there are no orders to be made, reading an especially thick novel. They play music too now. It’s not silent here anymore.

“Okay so I had this idea for you,” Ned begins after taking a sip of his chocolate macchiato. “A few ideas actually.” Michelle rolls her eyes next to him and continues drawing in her sketchbook.

“Shoot,” I reply. 

“Okay so, first thing first,” Ned spreads his hands out dramatically, “A Bluebird Lego set.”

For a moment, I don’t know how to respond. The idea is so surreal, so odd. Thankfully Peter is able to say something first.

“Y/N does not need a Lego set for herself,” he argues. “Have you seen how tall her magical ego is?” I nudge him playfully. Peter sticks his tongue out to return the gesture.

“Just imagine it though!” he exclaims suddenly. “It could be Y/N with her wings and then there would be a giant Dormammu you’d have to build. I mean no one except sorcerers has been able to see him, but I’m sure you could just describe it.”

“Know what?” I laugh and take a sip of my hot cocoa. “I actually really like that idea. Maybe I can have Ross do it as payback for forcing me to be an Avenger.” Peter nods.

“Or you could just guilt trip Mr. Stark into buying the company.”

“So the Lego set is set in stone,” I finish. “What else do you have Ned?”

“You need a catchphrase.” I furrow my brows.

“A catchphrase?” I ask. Even Peter looks at Ned curiously.

“Yeah,” he says. “Peter has, ‘It’s your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.’” My eyes widen and I look back at him. Dark pink has appeared on his cheeks and is slowly spreading up to the tips of his ears.

“Is that so?” I bite back a smile, excited to use that against him later. “Hmm. I mean we can work with that same format.”

“How about,” Michelle taps a pencil against her chin to feign seriousness, “It’s your local urban Bird-Bitch.” Laughter ripples out of my throat, nearly causing me to choke on my drink. I grab a nearby napkin and press against my lips.

“That’s perfect,” I tell them. “Get me on air. I have an announcement to make.” Our whole table suddenly breaks out into laughter. “Really though,” I say after a moment, “I have no idea what I would say to villains when I’m getting ready to kick ass.”

“What did you say to Dormammu?” Peter asks. I scoff.

“Let’s go Dorma-bitch,” I answer. “Then I proceeded to shove a planet into his head.” The table goes silent.

“You called Dormammu,” Peter drones, “Dorma-bitch?” 

“It was the best I could come up with on short notice.” I bite my lip. “Maybe I shouldn’t come up with my own catchphrase,” I murmur. 

“One last thing.” I look up from my drink when Ned speaks. “Your costume and name.”

“You want me to change my whole name?”

“Don’t worry. I think you’re really going to like it.” I chew on the inside of my cheek anxiously.

“I mean Tony is still changing my suit,” I consider. “If there’s any time to make requests it’s now.” I’m surprised to see Michelle hand her sketchbook to Ned who dramatically reveals what she had been drawing the past half hour.

“Is that —”

“A phoenix.” I finish Peter’s question. We both stare at the simple yet elegant outline. She drew it perfectly. “You want me to change my name to The Phoenix?” Ned shakes his head excitedly.

“No,” he says. “I was thinking about everything you told us. The Asgardian myth about Icarus and how he sank to the ocean floor but just ended up rising again on the other side. The phoenix is more just a symbolic image but if you made your name—”

“Icarus,” I whisper. Peter’s hand finds my own.

Icarus was my father’s nickname for me. A name I despised as a child. Finding my mother gave that nickname a whole new meaning though. It had made me feel strong, powerful. It made me feel like I was meant to fly. Whether that flight is to the sun or the waves, I just want to fly.

“You don’t have to use that alias if you don’t want to,” Michelle reassures me. “We just thought it would mean more than Bluebird.”

Slowly, I reach towards Michelle’s sketchbook and pull it from Ned’s hand.  _ Icarus. The girl who rose from the waves. _

“I love it, you guys.” I trace the design. “It’s perfect.”

* * *

Peter and I sit on the edge of the old Avengers tower. A couple hundred yards away I can see Heather coasting on the wind, singing a song to the coming storm. I watch as a bright flash of lightning flashes up the entire sky. Thunder follows close behind.

I drop my head onto Peter’s shoulder. I can feel the thin metal wire below his jacket. They press into my cheek but I don’t readjust myself. I only bask in his warmth, in the scent of him. The coffee from this morning, his favorite cologne, a fire that still burns in the fibers of his suit. I sigh contently and nuzzle his neck. His finger crawls up and down my spine. In less than a second, I melt in his arms.

“Do you want to fly?” The question shocks even me for a second. Peter leans away from me to look into my eyes. 

“Here?” I nod. He looks over at the storm. “Now?”

“Only for a little bit,” I say. “It’s not too different from swinging.” Peter narrows his eyes at me and I smile as innocently as possible.

“If you drop me…” I roll my eyes and stand up, dragging Peter up with me.

“I practically killed a god for you, Peter,” I remind him. “You really think I’d drop you?” He purses his lips and accepts my other hand when I offer it. “Just follow me, okay? The air will hold you. Watch.” I step backward, making sure to keep my eyes on him. He looks closely at my feet. The wind pushes up against them, keeping me in place.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers to me. I smile shyly and start to pull him towards me. Each of his steps is hesitant, but he follows me into the air. “This isn’t horrible,” Peter confesses. I chuckle and guide him further out. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest nor does he watch to make sure the air is still holding his weight. He just looks at me. In the air, there’s only us.

“I’m still a little upset we missed the slow song at prom,”  I tell him. He nods in agreement.

“If only we didn’t have to beat up a group of ATM thieves.” Without me saying anything he grabs onto my waist. I raise my hands to his shoulders.

“We did do a fantastic job though.” I snap my fingers behind his back and the aether comes alive with gentle music. Peter turns his head skyward. The wind picks up. It brushes through his hair throwing around the strands before leaving altogether. I brush his hair away from his face, drawing his attention away from the music.

“How is it that you always manage to surprise me?”

I shrug. “I guess having secret talents is just another one of my secret talents.” He laughs.

“Ever the enigma,” he says before dipping me backwards. When I come back up we resume swaying to the music, depending on the wind to hold us up.

“You love how enigmatic I am,” I refute. Dramatically, I swing outwards and snap back into Peter’s arms where he holds me closer than before.

“I love every part of you, Y/N,” he murmurs against my forehead. I exhale, a smile forming on my lips.

“I love you too.”

“Icarus,” he says, tasting the name. “I like it. Do you believe it though?”

I nod because I do. The Asgardian myth at least. I reached for the sun and I fell to the end of myself only to find out there was more. In fact, there was an entire universe inside of me to fly through, to discover. There was a plethora of suns, each of them willing to offer the world, to offer their light, to offer themselves. Each of them capable of holding me without burning me. Suns that did not burn my wings, but strengthen them so I could fly.

How lucky am I to have found my own universe of suns to call home?

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is......... My huge surprise.....
> 
> Fly Away will have a second installment!!!
> 
> For me, this story has been so impactful. It's made me a better writer and the reason I suddenly became so inspired to finish this book was because I suddenly got an idea for a second one???? Which is sort of crazy???? Although the idea for a second book has always been in the back of my mind I never actually indulged it. Now I have a sort of plot for it that I actually really, really like. It's one that involves a lot more magic and backstory for our main character (whom I've fallen in love with.)  
> Along with the second book I will also be posting little pieces of writing that depict Y/N's life between now and the beginning of the next book (Fall Away) :)
> 
> Also! I am currently working on uploading this story to Wattpad so please follow me @kenny.d.how and vote if you have the chance. It would be super appreciated.
> 
> Anyways, thank you all for sticking with me through this crazy ride. Your comments make me beyond happy. I know I've put you guys through a lot. I mean, I even cried during some scenes and I'm an iconic cold-hearted bitch. You guys are all incredible. You're my inspiration and my motivation. Every word you say means the world to me. I love you all.
> 
> -Kennedy


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